


a good reason to go

by xelly



Series: Reasons [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Book 3: A Court of Wings and Ruin, Canon Rewrite, Emotional Manipulation, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-04-25 09:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xelly/pseuds/xelly
Summary: “I'm not your pawn.”But he was. Just as Tamlin and Ianthe and every sentry in this forsaken court was. Pieces on a board I moved and placed where I wanted them, uncaring and unbothered by how it affected those around me.I didn't know what that made me, and I didn't know if I wanted the answer.|•|Sequel of no reason to stay.Feyre goes back to the Spring Court as a spy after the disaster in Hybern. No one knows about her real intentions. No one but Lucien, who despite his reluctance becomes her ally in a house full of enemies.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Reasons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576264
Comments: 165
Kudos: 232
Collections: literally amazing i could read these over and over





	1. Chapter 1

Lucien had me cornered first thing in the morning. It might not have looked like it, because we had to keep up appearances, of course, but I knew better with him these days, since he kept his eyes on me like a hawk circling a mouse. 

“What now?” I sighed, carrying my sketchbook against my chest. 

It was somewhat of a routine of mine since I came back, to get up early in the morning and paint. Not everyday, because some days were worse than the others. Or so Tamlin thought. Those days were spent in the solitude of my bedroom, hatching plots and schemes for hours on end. Then there were days like these, when I had to wake up—a pretty, small smile on my face—and pretend _today is the day_. That I was going to get better from the Night Court horrors. 

Tamlin ate all the lies I fed him, of course. Lucien wouldn't have even if he hadn't known about my true reason to be here. But once again, he wasn't so easily fooled by a pretty face. Not mine at least, not anymore. 

“Ianthe is back,” he announced. That made me stop. I glanced around, glad that no one was nearby to hear the hiss I let out. Lucien snorted dryly at that. “My same reaction.”

“Where?” 

“His study.”

I glanced sideways to him, noting the bitterness outlining his features. Tamlin hadn't let him remain there, some of his distrust for Lucien still present.

(More like a lot, if I was being honest.)

“At this point,” I told him, “I wish they both would just fuck.”

It would be easier like that. Tamlin was definitely more gullible without that bitch's potion in his mind. This would only complicate things further for me. 

Lucien tensed, as he was prone to do whenever someone so much as mentioned her.

I still hadn't asked, didn't think I would. Not with how strained things were between us. But I had not forgotten.

“And I'm supposing I'll have to speak with her,” I guessed. 

“We'll come fetch you soon,” he warned, rolling his eyes. “Make sure to put up your best act.”

“Don't I ever?” 

In truth, I had no idea why he kept reminding me of… taking care. Why he was the one to help me perfectionate my mask and my cover-story. 

_ “What are you going to tell him when he tries to come to your room?” he had asked me the second day I'd been here, when Tamlin still wasn't completely sure I was well out of Rhys' control. _

_ I hadn't answered, not because I didn't have an answer but because I knew what I had to say, what I had to imply. And let Lucien know as much. He had gotten a faraway look on his face for a moment. _

_ “And when someone points out those muscles you've gained, and that your powers don't flare anymore?” _

_ “I had to train, obviously.” I considered it for a moment. “If I was going to be his pawn, I couldn't break easily. And when people tried to steal me away, I could defend myself.”_

_ “Who would try to steal away his mate?” _

_ I shrugged. “You never know.”_

_ Lucien stared at me for the longest time. “Are you going to claim the mating bond is fake?” _

_ “I can't, Helion confirmed it for us, and then Mor.” _

_ “And why wouldn't he come back for you, then?” He arched his scarred brow. _

_ I scanned his face, the new crisscrossed scars that Tamlin had inflicted. They were shallow, compared to the ones Amarantha gave him. But the fact that they were there at all was still something I wanted to rage over. _

_ “_He never cared_,” I whispered. _

_ “What?” _

_ I cleared my throat. “I'll just say he didn't care about me, only about the book and the Cauldron.” _

_Lucien had nodded at me, and that had been it. _

Up to this day, I still hadn't figured that out. But every time I was about to slip, even if just a little, he was there to divert the attention for himself. 

I think that's what confused me the most about him these days. He insisted we weren't friends, but still watched my back when he didn't have to. Maybe it was because of Elain, maybe I was putting pressure on him without meaning to. Maybe he cared. Or maybe he cared that, if he was good enough, I'd let him see my sister again. 

I didn't tell him that it wasn't my decision to make, whether or not she would want to see him. Even if I preached morality, I didn't have the right to get in the middle of the two. And even if he helped me, that didn't mean she was going to accept him. Much less a mating bond. But Lucien was a wildcard that benefitted me way too much to lose. And if he wanted to help, it wouldn't be me who stopped him. 

I shook my head to myself and turned to him. “Come fetch me later.” 

“I'm not your servant.”

I gave him a simpering smile and got inside the painting studio. 

* * *

Lucien did go fetch me after all. It surprised me Tamlin entrusted me with him, despite everything. Not with tensions so high between them. But there he was, playing babysitter again for me. Almost like he had nothing better to do. 

Either way, I smirked at him. It earned me a warning look and a growled, “Shut up.” 

I put my hands on the air. “I said nothing.”

Lucien only rolled his eyes and walked me from my room in sullen silence. When I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, there was no mistaking the tension lining his shoulders. “Have you spoken with her?” 

“No, she's spoken with Tamlin. Mother knows what bullshit story she told him.” 

I arched my brows. It was an odd day Lucien volunteered more than he should, even if it was a single snide remark.

“He does love to eat those lies, after all,” I muttered. 

“I don't know why you complain, it serves you well enough.”

“At least I make my lies credible,” I spat. “She only spews her bullshit and for all he cares, it's the Mother herself talking.” 

Lucien snorted bitterly. “Fair enough.”

I grinned. “Must be a cold day in hell.” 

And it almost, _almost_ felt like nothing had changed. As if we were still… I dropped the grin, putting up instead the eternal neutral expression I used ever since I came back. Not too happy, never too sad. 

Lucien gripped my elbow, halting our walk. I looked down at the offensive hand and gave him a flat stare. He was quick to let me go. 

“What?” 

He swallowed. “Tell me she's okay.” 

“She's safe.”

“But is she okay?” 

“Excuse me, let me summon my all-seeing powers and go check real quick.” 

He scowled at me. “I know you send information to Rhys through the mating bond,” he hissed. “You're not blind.” 

Being honest, I hadn't dared ask. After knowing no one was in the brink of death, I stopped asking for more. Maybe it was cowardice on my part. It was none of Lucien's business. 

“My sisters were thrown into the Cauldron as humans and came out as the creatures we were told to hate and fear since we were children. How do _you_ think they are?” Like I had been after I died was a good guess. “What do you care anyway? You don't even know Elain. The mating bond is messing up your good senses.”

“Like it did to you with Rhysand?” he snapped. 

I wanted to slap him. “Don't talk like you know what it was like for me to let him claim me like that just so your High Lord stopped treating me as property. You have no idea what it was having all of that thrown on me when I wasn't ready.” 

Lucien gave me a scorching glare. “And yet you accepted it—_him_.” 

“Barely a week before I came back,” I hissed. “So forgive me if I feel rather torn over your sudden interest in Elain.” 

“You didn't have a problem with _his_ attention.” 

“Rhysand would've gone to war had I decided I didn't want anyone to know about the mating bond. Believe what you might, but don't imply all of it was anything but my choice.” 

I hurried my steps, trying my damnedest to keep off the stormy feelings inside me from showing on my face. It was a good thing the place was so deserted of servants—another one of my schemes. Fewer people watching me. 

“Do you really think I would force her?” he whispered and when I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, there was hurt in his face. 

“I've taken too many chances where they are concerned, I'm not about to take more.” 

With that, I hurried down the stairs and went straight to the dining room. The distress, at least, turned out to be advantageous for me. When Ianthe saw how upset I was, she immediately tensed. And when Lucien walked in, with the same face, she seemed ready to run. Good, let her be afraid. 

I sat next to Tamlin, Lucien on my other side. Neither broke the silence, and I was too busy staring holes in her head. The least I wanted to do to her, being quite honest. But making her squirm was enough, for now.

Ianthe scanned my face, pretending to look for mercy, but I knew she remembered our last encounter. I knew that she knew I wasn't merciful, or kind, or particularly good with the people who hurt those I loved. 

She looked down before speaking, as if she couldn't bear with the shame. “I'd like to start by saying that I apologize for acting on an impulse, in what I believed would—mend things between us when we thought you were part of the Night Court.” I bristled. “While keeping our allies satisfied at the same time.”

What she meant to do was hold my sisters hostage so I would crawl for them. 

Bitch. 

I furrowed my brow. “What in the everloving hell made you think handing my sisters to Hybern was a good idea?” 

Ianthe swallowed. If she thought I would play nice because Tamlin was there, she was sorely mistaken. “I know—I know it was a risky choice, but I thought you might like to have them with you forever. You used to speak of them so fondly when…” She quieted when my brows dipped, her face blanching ever so lightly. The beat of silence that followed spoke more than words could. But damn her if she still didn't try. “Besides, if Lucien had discovered of the mating bond beforehand… just imagine the pain of knowing they would only have decades at best.” 

“If you expect gratitude, you'll be waiting for a long time,” Lucien replied coolly. 

After our little spat, having her talk about Elain must be like prodding an open wound.

Tamlin still growled a warning. 

“I know,” Ianthe said lowly, pathetically. Could've fooled me. “And I don't expect it. I just hope that one day you may find it in your hearts to forgive me, both of you.” 

When Lucien and I stayed silent, she started squirming. That we both stared her down wasn't helping matters. It reminded me, oddly, of Keir. 

“Feyre, Ianthe made a mistake,” Tamlin intervened. My eyes went to him. “I know what your family means to you, but we can try and solve this. She _is_ sorry.” 

He still trusted her. Despite everything, despite her going behind his back, despite my sisters being the consequence of her acts. He still trusted her. As if she hadn't done something irreversibly damning, as if immortality was something that could be fixed. Fool, he was a fool. And he deserved everything that was going to befall him. 

I turned away from him. “That doesn't fix much, does it?” 

Ianthe seemed stricken. By anger, then by fake-guilt. Her act didn't convince me. We both played the same game here, she wasn't going to deceive a deceiver. 

“I will never stop trying to rectify my mistakes, to right the wrongs done to you.”

My eyes narrowed, my mouth turned into a firm, displeased line. Obviously, I knew her act was a lie and that she didn't mean a word, but Mother damn me if I wasn't going to enjoy it. Let her humiliate herself for nothing. Let her kneel before me, it would only make it easier for me to cut her head. When the time came. 

“And Lucien,” I added sharply. Her perfects blonde brows rose. “He has been affected by your actions as much as I have.” 

She swallowed hard, but lowered her gaze and nodded. Lucien, for the first time in forever, didn't seem completely terrified of my plans. Interesting. 

“Of course,” Ianthe said. “I'll try to be worthy of my friends again. Despite the alliance we had to forge, we are still loyal to one another. Let's not allow this to undo all the hard work we've done to keep our lands safe. Hybern is unstoppable. It now can only be weathered like any other storm.” 

The anger came off in waves from Lucien. I almost heard the insults he wanted to bark at her. “At what cost?” he inquired instead, earning a reproaching glare from Tamlin. “For all his talk of peace and immunity… we have to be careful.” 

I noticed the look that passed between the two males, the challenge in each. Maybe Lucien was finally growing a spine after all. 

“We will be,” Tamlin gritted out. 

At the end, it was Lucien who gave in. 

“He's right,” I intervened with a soft voice. “What about the people during this? After Amarantha, they won't be happy to work with Hybern. They suffered enough.” 

Tamlin stilled. I extended mentals claws towards his mind, not needing to enter it to feel the guilt flaring. Perfect. 

“Hybern ensured the safety of our people.” Our. This wasn't my people, but I seemed more worried than their High Lord was. “It was part of our deal, that our people will be safe once he arrives. Though I already sent word that it would be wiser to move to the east, for the time being.” 

I tucked away that bit of information, nodding with sympathy, but not with any real understanding of the situation. How bad it really was. Much like Tamlin himself. 

“That brings us to the other reason behind this meeting,” he went on. “The first delegation from Hybern comes tomorrow. Jurian will be here at noon.” 

Lucien twitched in his chair. “Why?” 

“They will be surveying the wall, what weak spots they can find.” 

It was a battle not to let the incredulity show when I looked at him. He spoke so easily, about the wall, about Hybern possessing the Cauldron. As if he didn't quite cared that the male who preferred to kill his human slaves rather than free them had a weapon that could very well cleave the world in half. I really couldn't tell if he was so foolish as to not realize, or if he just… didn't care anymore. Even Lucien was smart enough to be alarmed. 

“We will receive them tomorrow, Feyre,” he told me. 

I scowled a little. “And Lucien?” 

Tamlin's eyes turned blank as he nodded. But he made no other movement to include him. Sometimes, he liked to pretend Lucien wasn't in the room. I hadn't heard his name from Tamlin's lips in a while. 

“Are you okay with that?” he asked me, covering my hand with his. 

I was quick to move my hand away, letting it fall to my lap. Tamlin gave me a concerned look when I angled my body away from him. “What other choice do we have?” 

That, if it was possible, made him more agitated. It was almost pitiful to watch him try fix my unhappiness at the prospect of working with Hybern. We reached an agreement that I understood why he had allied with him. It didn't mean I had to like any of it. And the longer I remained unhappy, the more worried he got. 

Now that Rhys was the one with a claim on me and he seemed uninterested in acting on it, I was free to do as I pleased and where I wanted. With the Summer Court a tunnel away and Tarquin as a friend, I would have Tamlin wrapped around my little finger as long as I was happy to stay. 

The apology glimmered in his eyes, the promise of new paints and details he would feed me if I asked with the exact measure of harmless curiosity. Tamlin didn't think twice about that, believing it was trauma after not being told things. Fool. 

“I have some business to attend.” 

He nodded towards Ianthe, who stood and approached our side of the table with a dancer's grace. Lucien and I stood, at the same time, shoulders tight. I wondered which one of us would snap first. 

The High Priestess was many things, clever was one of them. It was a wise decision on her part to stop a healthy distance away from us, dipping her chin so lowly for me that it was almost a bow. If only she knew. 

“I apologize once again to you, Feyre. I hope one day I will be able to rectify my mistakes.” 

I didn't need to use my powers to see the gritted teeth behind the pathetic pout of her mouth. I wanted to smirk, to goad myself in her humiliation, but I only held her gaze, unimpressed. Then glanced at Tamlin, dismissing her altogether. He gave me a helpless look that I loved all too well. _Grovel for me. A little bit louder, a little bit lower._

“Then we will be leaving,” he muttered. 

Ianthe lowered her eyes and nodded, following Tamlin out. I stared the way they left, making sure not to be the less bit discreet about it. She looked over her shoulder, only to find me with a dark intent on her and was quick to look away. 

“I don't know what your intentions in playing her are,” Lucien told me once they left, “but it is not a good idea.” 

I turned to him, letting the corners of my mouth curl up. “And why is that?” 

“She's powerful, Feyre, and it's dangerous to make an enemy out of her.” 

“Who would've guessed we had so much in common?” I crooned. 

Lucien's gaze was an unreadable one, but his body was tense. He looked around, searching for people who weren't there. Then he said slowly, “Two sentries are sick. I'm going to cover their shift in a moment.” 

I arched my brow. Lucien inviting me, or even implying I could be in his proximity outside of what was strictly necessary was a occurrence that happened less and less by the day, by each lie that came out of my mouth. 

With narrowed eyes, I informed him, “I could go change, and I could cover for the other one.” A small smirk. “I wouldn't want another Naga horde to attack you while you're all alone.” 

I had the feeling he was trying his hardest not to roll his eyes. He nodded nonetheless and left, saying we would meet at the stables in fifteen minutes. 

Once I was alone, I bit the inside of my cheek. I had no idea what he wanted, but I wasn't about to let the opportunity slip, whatever it turned out to be. 

* * *

The first moments of our round were the weirdest part of my day so far. Neither of us spoke, but here we were, side by side deep in the forest like we had been many times before. I closed my eyes and I almost could see things with humans eyes. I had traveled this place with Lucien hundreds of times, exchanging insults we didn't feel. Back when we were friends. 

But I hadn't been able to hear so clearly the ruffle of a bird's feathers, or to control the tendril of shadow weaving itself around my fingers. And we weren't friends anymore. 

Lucien watched me intently, but I pretended not to notice. “You've become powerful,” he said after a long while. 

“I've practiced.” 

“Tamlin will start to ask about your powers soon, you know that?” 

Of course I did, but I asked instead, “And how did he communicate that to you, through a growl or by pretending you're part of the furniture?” 

There wasn't bite in my words, at least not directed at him. Just a sort of sad curiosity. Of course, he didn't see it like that and snapped the reins of his horse. I refused to accept that and hurried my mare until I blocked his path. 

He clicked his tongue. 

“Why?” I asked. Why he stayed? Why didn't he see what sort of garbage Tamlin was? Why he preferred _him_? “Why warn me at all?” 

“Because if you die, I'll never see my mate,” he spat. It was a lie and we both knew it. I didn't move. “Because you've been weighing on my conscience for too long. Because you were my friend once and…” 

His words died down and didn't come back to life. I waited for the complete answer that wouldn't come. Lucien steered his mount, going around me and I let him, despite wanting to bring him back and pull the truth out of him if needed. But neither of us was ready for that conversation. 

“Beware of Ianthe,” he told me as I rejoined him, without looking at me. “If she had sway with Tamlin before, now it's like she controls the threads around his wrists and knees. Remarkable for someone who isn't daemati.” 

“No, it's not. Tamlin is a gullible fool.” 

“Again, it serves your plans.” 

“Maybe.” 

It was silent once more after that. I used the moment to keep the ribbon of shadow curling and entwining around my fingers and arm. This wasn't a facet of my magic I had really delved into. And I was intrigued to know what else I could do with it. 

Lucien kept glancing at it with his metal eye. 

“What are you hiding beneath that glamour?” he finally asked. 

Even if I was expecting a question, that one made my heart skip a beat. He noticed it. It made me wonder who else had. And suddenly my skin broke into a cold sweat. 

“How do you know that?” 

He touched the cheekbone under his metal eye. Right. It was only that and nothing else. No one had noticed. I still had difficulty breathing. 

“Well?” 

I looked down my bare arm, and maybe it was because we were alone and that I wanted to feel like myself again, if only for a moment, like I was home. I let the glamour fall, swirls and flowers of ink drew on my skin. It made a pang go through me. 

Lucien blinked, and huffed what could've been a laugh. “Another bargain?” 

“No,” I said softly, “an oath.” 

He gave me a long stare, brows twitching. “I guess you won't tell me.” 

I wanted to, against my better judgment. But being Rhys' spy was one thing, being High Lady of his court—first of Prythian—was something else. I couldn't risk my plans like that. 

“You'll know, eventually.” 

Hopefully sooner rather than later. 

* * *

By the time we were back, lunchtime had gone by. My stomach growled with hunger, but I made myself walk to the manor side by side with Lucien. The trek was silent and awkward at times. But it felt like there was some sort of unspoken agreement that hadn't been there before. Despite everything, we could only trust in each other, even if he kept giving me side-glances, he knew what my intentions were. 

And on my part… I had no idea what made me trust him. It just happened. But wondering why I couldn't come up with an answer. Better left for another time. 

“She hasn't forgotten what you did to her,” he told me before we entered the manor. “Beware.” 

He then left to charm a cook into giving him food. That was it.

I lingered in the foyer thinking about it for a moment, watching him go and wondering. Always making myself questions that I could never answer. Shaking them off my head, I went next to Tamlin's study with as much excitement as stock going to the slaughterhouse. 

I didn't knock before peeking my head, but I made my steps loud as I approached. Tamlin was still startled when he saw me, scrambling to cover the papers he was working on. 

“Sorry, I can come later.”

I didn't offer him the same courtesy of masking my disappointment. It was obvious to anyone who watched closely, and him who had been hyper-aware of my emotions lately, it was clear as daylight. 

“Where have you been?” he chose to ask. 

I walked in fully, closing the door timidly and leaning on it. When I bit my lip it was an incriminatory gesture as much as it was provocative. 

“I was with Lucien,” I admitted. “He told me two sentries were sick and I offered to cover their shifts with him.” 

His annoyance didn't make me wait. “Lucien should be more responsible than that,” he growled. I didn't have time to feel guilty for throwing him at the wolves. “It is not safe…” 

Tamlin's voice died down when I lowered my brow. The thrill of knowing one simple gesture held so much power over him was a hard one to fight. Keeping my face straight and somber was an exercise in restrain. 

He stayed silent as I rounded the desk, moving to push the papers aside as I stood in front of him. Some disappointment crawled over my eyes and I let it show when I perched at the edge of the table. I gave him sad stretch of the lips, it couldn't even pass as a smile. 

“It's not as if I'm in danger of being abducted,” I muttered. “Rhysand made it clear I've lived past my usefulness to him.” 

His face crumpled at the pain lacing my voice. Rhys was who he was, but he was also my mate and his rejection hurt me in a way that I couldn't avoid. And one that Tamlin could never hope to understand. He took my hand into his, placing a soft kiss to my knuckles. 

I loathed the feel of his lips and my skin, it made me want to puke, but I struggled through it. 

“I have to tell you something, I sighed, making the words shrink and shrink more. 

At that he let my hand drop and looked up expectantly. I took a moment, trying to pick the right words and the right tone like I was merely trying to mix a dress with the jewelry to match. 

I went for sheepish, and playing with my fingers to seal the image. 

“Today I burned one of my paintings.” 

“How did it happen?” 

“I made a wrong move and—I don't know, I guess I was a little bit annoyed at it. And next thing I know is everything's in flames!” I shrieked. 

His eyes widened. “And what did you do?” 

“I… threw water on it.” 

I pursed my lips. Tamlin realized I hadn't gone find a bucket and dumped it on the canvas. The way I spoke was the same way Elain told Father she lost an expensive necklace or one of her diamond earrings. 

“It was a mess,” I cried. “And I almost set the others on fire again.”

“Oh, Feyre.” I lowered my face. “We'll make sure it doesn't happen again.” 

I sniffed. “Lucien explained… that when you don't use magic, it builds up and that's why these outbursts happen.” 

“Did he now?” 

I ignored his tight reply in order to go on, “You know I haven't been using magic as of late.” Lie, lie, lie. “And maybe—maybe I shouldn't. Do that, I mean. I don't want to hurt anyone else, Tam.” His eyes turned sympathetic. I took a deep breath before saying, “I want to practice magic.”

Tamlin didn't respond for a moment. I didn't move either, weighing his reaction. If he lost control now—

“You want to practice magic,” he repeated. 

“I—yes. _Please_.” How I hated that vile words and the pleading I injected in it. “Please, I can feel it building again and what if next time it isn't just a painting? Maybe a tutor, or Lucien could help me learn use fire better…” 

“Do you want to practice,” he cut me off, “or do you want to fight?” 

A pause. His eyes were accusatory things on me. 

“I _do_ know how to,” I said carefully. Then look away. “You know that.”

The fact was just something he chose to ignore for his peace of mind. Mother forbid I could overpower him in any way. That I could be stronger or smarter than him. 

Tamlin fell silent for a moment, perhaps juggling with his desire to lord over what he thought was his and his wish to keep me happy. 

“I don't trust anyone to teach you,” he began, each word measured. “Not when we are surrounded by enemies. And Lucien is busy.” 

An evasive I came prepared for. 

“What about you?” I asked quietly. 

“Me?” 

He threw himself back on his chair, as if the last thing that had occurred to him was thinking he could teach me. It pained me to admit it, but shape-shifting wasn't something I bothered to learn before. And it would be a good—better than good actually—ability to hone. 

“Unless you don't want to,” I continued in the same quiet voice. 

His green eyes widened at the sadness dripping from my words. “No. No. It's not that,” he rushed to clarify. “I just didn't think that you would want me to…” 

A confused tilt of the head. “Why wouldn't I want to? It's _you_.” 

“But you've grown claws before.” He gestured to my hands gripping now the desk's edge. 

“Not conciciously. The point is that if you teach me I'd be learning the only ability I never mastered, I'd be draining the magic and I'd be safe with you.” I let my lips grow into a hopeful smile, let my eyes shine at the prospect. But it dimmed the longer he did not speak. “You don't want to.” 

“I—”

“It's okay, I understand.” 

I failed to fake another smile and tried to leave, but he gripped my hand again. The sudden contact made me tense. Whatever Tamlin thought about it, he let me go a second later and mumbled an apology. 

“It's okay,” I repeated. 

“I'll do it.”

“You will?” I whispered, as if the idea didn't quite enter my mind. 

He smiled at me, however forced and strained. “I'll do anything for you.” 

_ What about when I needed you to?_ I wanted to spit, but instead I beamed at him. 

“I've never taught anyone, though,” he said sheepishly. “And no one really taught me since the power always was instinctual, you know?” 

My smile turned teasing as I went back to my former position and nudged his knee with my leg. “If the power comes from you maybe it'll be the same for me. Who knows? I might even surpass you.” 

He gave me a tense chuckle, but my light, joyful mood sufficed to make him shut up about it. There was no denying it, anyway, I already had. 

The corner of his mouth curled up, a tender look took over his face. He seemed… content. Happy to see me smile so often. His eyes seemed so vulnerable that for a moment an unexpected wave of sheer guilt washed over me. Like I was fooling a child. 

It was gone between one blink and the next. _I_ was the child. He was five hundred years old, not a little boy. And feeling this way towards him was ridiculous. 

“I love it when you smile,” he said softly, awed. “I don't want to go so long without seeing you to, again.” 

And there it was his remorse once more, rearing its ugly head. For Under the Mountain, and every day after. It made me hate him, and made it harder to at the same time. 

_Just admit you're wrong, say it out loud and we can fix it. Just say the words, take the responsibility._ But he never did and every passing day reminded me that he wouldn't. 

My powers alerted me of a intrusive presence. 

My smiled broadened. “You give me reasons to do it.” 

I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his cheek while my other hand cupped the other side of his face. When I drew back, our noses were nearly touching. 

“Thank you for doing this for me,” I whispered.

His lips parted. But when I thought he might lean in, his attention turned towards the door. Not a second later, someone knocked on the door. My knees quakes in relief when he moved away. 

“Come in,” he grunted. 

I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Ianthe peeking from the door. Her teal eyes widening slightly upon seeing me. 

“I'm sorry for the interruption,” she started. “There is something I'd like to discuss with you, High Lord.” 

Any easy demeanor in me blinked out like a candle in the wind. I turned my face sharply, my back to the High Priestess and my mouth twisted in a scowl. Tamlin shot me a pleading look before glaring daggers at Ianthe. 

“It can wait,” he clipped. 

I kept my powers out, toeing the line in her mind's edge. Being inside that place was not something I wished. But being aware of her emotions was useful when I could pick out her annoyance and indignation, if only for my enjoyment. 

Her steps flitted away until I couldn't discern them anymore. 

“She really feels bad about it,” Tamlin said to me, his tone between a scold and a plead. “She regrets what she did to your sisters.” 

“I won't forgive her that easily,” I scoffed. “Not without giving my sisters the chance to first.” 

Not that Nesta would. More than hurting me, Ianthe hurt Elain. Which meant that if the King was the first name in her death list, she was a solid second. It was probable I was the third. 

“Feyre, I want to take things calmly.” 

“I _am_ calm,” I pointed out. “It could—and it should—be a lot worse.” 

It was clear I was barely tolerating her presence for his sake. An effort he noticed and appreciated. And still, he demanded more. 

“I thought you were friends.” 

“You and Lucien were,” I muttered. “But you act like he isn't even in the room.” 

It wasn't part of my plan to broach the subject, but the opportunity was too good to pass. What was up with that, anyway? He could forgive Ianthe, but not Lucien? The double standard messed my head up. 

“Lucien's mistakes were serious. None of it might've happened if it wasn't for them.” 

No, I was quite confident my sisters would have been collateral anyway by Ianthe's schemes. 

I stayed quiet a second. 

“Rhysand managed to trick everyone, Lucien had no idea—” 

“His support sealed the lie. That I can't forgive.” 

I gave him an annoyed grunt and walked around the desk, towards the hearth. “So you can resent him all you want but I can't?” 

“It's more complicated than…” 

“You're not fair to him,” I simply said, shrugging one shoulder. 

“You care a lot about him lately.” 

The jealousy in his tone was gratifying. 

I glanced at him sideways. “He is my friend. And yours, even if you don't act like it. I don't want to be in the middle of you two.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes and looked away, a hand going through his short hair. When I didn't say anything for a moment, he sighed. 

“Fine, I'll try.” 

I didn't react for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek. But my eyes went back to him. “You will?” 

Tamlin heaved another side and got up, coming up to stand next to me. He pried my hand away from where I had my arms crossed. I let him with only the slightest of reluctance. 

“Yes,” he told me, pressing yet another kiss to my knuckles. 

I directed a long look his way him, but gave in. I always gave him in the face of his charming smile and even more charming words. Or so he thought. 

“You have me dancing in the palm of your hand, you know that?” 

A knowing grin possessed my mouth. 

“Oh, I know.” 

* * *

Dinner was the most tedious thing of my day. Which was saying a lot when I had to endure Tamlin and his lovesick gaze. 

Things were still tense with Lucien, but that wasn't new. The addition of Ianthe was, though. Even her interest in kissing my ass was somewhat of a novelty. 

“That's a beautiful dress, Feyre,” she said quietly when I entered the dining room. 

Now, that was a lie. It was awfully tight and I moved in fear of ripping it. Alis kept giving me pointed looks when she dressed me, at the muscles and curves I gained while I was away from this festering house. I was a far cry of what I'd been here. The differences were still astounding to me, it made me wonder how blind they made themselves to be. 

I gave her a dry look, passing her by, “Didn't you pick it after all?” 

Lucien was already next to my usual seat, between him and Tamlin. It seemed like, no matter how he felt about me, it wasn't worse than being next to Tamlin. He didn't look as glum as usual when I approached, his mouth quirking up at the sight of the priestess humiliating herself.

And because Tamlin wasn't there yet, I winked at him. He answered with an indiscernible shake of his head. _My enemy's enemy_, I thought as his amusement peaked. 

“Where's Tamlin?” I asked while sitting. 

“How was I going to know?” Lucien huffed. I wasn't sure if he meant me to hear. 

I turned to Ianthe, brows raised in silent demand. She took the seat across me. “He'll be here shortly.”

I didn't bother giving her a reply and simply turned again to Lucien like she wasn't there. “How are the sick sentries?” 

“Healing.” 

“Do you think they'll be good tomorrow?” 

“I would hope so,” he said pleasantly. He always played along with me, no matter what. “I couldn't cover for them again, anyway, with Hybern's delegation arriving tomorrow. And neither could you, I guess.” 

“I guess,” I agreed. “Do you know who they are?” 

He shook his head. 

My eyes went blank before going to Ianthe. “And you?” 

Pleasant words were a luxury reserved for Lucien. For her there were only hard edges and barely concealed glares. She startled when my attention fell on her, but recovered quickly. 

“Only Jurian.” 

“Do you know him?” 

She swallowed hard. “I know of him.” 

I watched her with a inscrutable stare, enjoying how she began squirming under it. “Were you there when he was resurrected?” 

“No, lady.”

“I am no lady,” I snapped. 

Her eyes flickered between Lucien and me, something like fear in them. Whatever she saw in our faces didn't calm her. When I got my revenge, Lucien wouldn't interfere. That was… interesting. So much, in fact, that I had the feeling he enjoyed this as much as I did.

My musings were cut short by Tamlin's arrival, an apology already in his lips. 

I smiled at him, all the somber demeanor fading away. “Don't worry. In the Mortal Realm we say a king is never late, everyone just arrives early.” 

He chuckled. “I'll consider it.” 

With a snap of his fingers the table filled with food. The demonstration didn't awe me any longer. Just a little parlor trick. Even then, I beamed at him, and continued to do so when he served me, as usual. 

Ianthe merely watched on with those arpy eyes. 

“And what were you talking about?” 

My smile dimmed. “Only about tomorrow,” I answered before Ianthe could. 

“I see.”

“And Lucien here was telling me about the sick sentries.” I gave him a pointed look. “They must be really bad if they had to be in bedrest.” 

He took too long to catch onto the meaningful look. Or maybe he wanted to pretend he did. A sigh. 

“How are they?” he asked. 

A pathetic attempt. At best. I had to stifle a groan. Lucien was so focused on his food that he didn't notice, not until I put my hand on his arm. He directed a confused look at me. 

“Tamlin was asking about the sick sentries,” I explained. 

“I think it was just a stomach bug,” Lucien said, hesitant and lowly. “They spent most of the morning throwing up and the rest of the day recovering. But the healer says they will be fine by tomorrow.” 

I waited for Tamlin to go on with the conversation, but he only nodded and took a bite of his food. So much for trying. Lucien waited, too. The hopefulness in his eye pained me in a way I couldn't understand but felt anyway. 

The next one to pick up conversation was Ianthe, shooting a question at me. 

“Will you be here tomorrow to receive the others?” she asked curiously. 

I tightened my grip on my fork and lifted my eyes to her. 

“_Yes_.” 

It wasn't outright hostile, but it certainly wasn't a friendly answer. Tamlin begged for mercy with a glance. My concession was begin to eat again and let the subject drop. 

The High Priestess put up a thoughtful face. “Are you sure that's a good idea, my lord?” 

Tamlin knew all efforts for calm conversation vanished when I let my utensils clatter on my plate and focused on Ianthe. The sound was stark in comparison to the following silence. 

“Why? Do you think our allies are capable of hurting me?” 

“No,” she rushed to say, “of course they…” 

“Then stop worrying about things that are not an issue. I thought you would have learnt your lesson by now.” 

Her face blanched. “I'm sorry.” 

“So you keep saying.” I drank from my flute of wine, rolling my eyes. 

“I just worry about your well-being, that's all. Wouldn't want you to be in danger again.” 

I clenched my jaw, but this was too good an opportunity to let go. “Don't worry, Tamlin is going to train me so I can defend myself. Ease your mind.” 

He cleared his throat. “I… didn't agree to that.” 

I removed my accusing glare from Ianthe at last and focused on Tamlin. Blinked at him. 

“Right.” Lucien, who had been content just watching me rip into Ianthe, stilled when I faced him. “That reminds me. I wanted to ask you, Lucien, if you'd be available and willing to train me?” I forced my voice into a shy and a little bit optimistic tilt. “Tamlin said you might be busy, but I thought I could at least ask.” 

Lucien always played along when I schemed. But his gaze flickered to Tamlin and he hesitated. Only then I glanced at him too, scanning the carefully blank expression on his face.

I arched a brow. “You don't mind, do you? I know I take time from you with the shifting lessons, I don't think it's fair to take more. But if Lucien—” I rested my hand on his arm again “—has any obligation…”

When I looked at him again, he was clenching his jaw. “No, I don't.” 

I beamed. “Then you have time!” 

“Yes.” 

“Before breakfast would be okay for you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Perfect.” 

To Tamlin, the excitement was just me getting away with it—even if he was displeased about it. Lucien was harder to fool. And Ianthe… Ianthe saw the promise of my claws, and the possibility of me shredding her to ribbons with them. 

* * *

Once dinner was finished, Tamlin excused himself and placed a kiss to my temple. I answered with a small smile. Ianthe left with him. That left Lucien and me alone.

We stood at the same time. 

“You're so full of shit, Feyre,” he hissed. It was already risky for him to say it when the servants would come clean after us in any minute. 

I shrugged and headed out to the staircase, it was late already and tomorrow would be a busy day. He followed, stewing in the unsaid words he wanted to spit at me. But he still walked next to me towards our rooms. 

Only there, away from prying ears, I finally said, “Why? For giving you a reason to keep on being my glorified nursemaid?” I leaned on my door and crossed my arms. “Don't think I haven't noticed how you have nothing to do but follow me around. You know, Lucien? Sometimes I think this is punishment.” 

“Congratulations, you're very perceptive,” he sneered. “You're right, it is. But guess what, you just made it worse. And what for? You don't even need it. I know you don't. So what are you playing at, Feyre?” 

I didn't reply. 

“Leave me out of it. I'm not your pawn.” 

And with that, he turned on his heels and slammed the door. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Sighing before entering my bedroom, Lucien's words haunted me while I took a bath and when I slipped under the covers. 

_I'm not your pawn. _

But he was. Just as Tamlin and Ianthe and every sentry in this forsaken court was. Pieces on a board I moved and placed where I wanted them, uncaring and unbothered by how it affected those around me. 

I didn't know what that made me, and I didn't know if I wanted the answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!
> 
> I'm back from my mini hiatus and really excited to write this second part of the series. Mostly because it includes three of my favorite things to write: Feyre and Lucien friendship, Tamlin getting played and Feyre being a badass. Also minor, like really minor, Feysand. 
> 
> This fic looks up to be really angst-y, so bear with me. But it has a happy ending, that I promise. 
> 
> That said, I'd like to warn you that I'm still not sure about how tagging works and to encourage you to let me know if I need to tag anything. 
> 
> As always, I appreciate comment and kudos. Don't be afraid of letting me know what you think!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @thestarwhowishes


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter the royals and Jurian.

Fighting with Lucien was wildly different from fighting lessons with Cassian. While Cass taught me, he never went hard on me, he pulled punches even though he kept me on my toes enough to make me work for it.

Lucien didn't. 

“What good are those healing powers for?” he'd said. And we entered the most fair fight I ever got into. It ended up being more satisfying that I thought.

But I still ended up pined, with his forearm pressing on my throat. Centuries of experience overpowered months of brutal training. 

“Was that good enough for you, lady Feyre?” he crooned. 

“No,” I said and winnowed away. 

But he still underestimated me, like many people did. 

Lucien stared at the spot on the floor where I had been lying, long enough for me to appear being him and press my boot at the back of his head, pressing it on the sand beneath. 

“This is though.”

The wards I threw around us did not allow him to winnow as I had, which only left him with snarling. “That wasn't fair,” he protested, as much as he could. I added a little bit more pressure. “Fine, I yield.”

Smirking to myself, I stepped back and let him get up. He cursed me colorfully as he did. 

“So, was it worth your time or not?”

“Being cheated?”

“We never agreed on rules. You can't break rules if they're not there.”

“I thought we would keep to fire. If you're going to use powers, keep it to the one I already have.”

“Have you ever thought you might have the spell-breaking gift?”

At that, he looked flummoxed. “What?”

I shrugged. “You can see glamours. And that day in Hybern you got free from his restraints. What gives?”

A thoughtful expression took over his face. I hadn't paid enough attention in the moment, but as I kept looking back to that day, less and less things made sense. At the end, Lucien only shook his head. 

“Must come from other side of the family. If I have it, it must not be strong.” 

I shrugged again, but didn't know how to tell him not even _I_ had been able to break free completely. Didn't know what it meant either. 

“It's late, I should get ready.” 

I turned to leave, but Lucien gripped me by the elbow. I allowed it this time. 

“What now?” 

“Why are you doing this?” His eye search mine. 

“I don't know how to shape-shift.” 

“But you know how to fight, you're good. And the fire, you're good with that too. So why?” 

_ Because I want you with me and not them. Because you're my friend. _

“It keeps me in shape.” I grinned at him in a way Cassian would be proud of. “And it pleases me that Tamlin has to suck it up because he's afraid of me leaving.” 

He let go of me. I didn't want to believe it was disappointment what I saw in his face. Because… it could mean that he… that he wanted to hear what I so badly wanted to say. It was too much hope to have. 

* * *

My first thought when I saw the twins for the first time was that they reminded me of snakes, slippery and poisonous. And if they were snakes, in their eyes, I was the mouse they would eat. 

They looked at me like something to play with, a toy to break. My appearance didn't lend itself to make them think otherwise, the braided coronet atop my head interlaced with flowers, the delicate jewelry. I was the perfect pet. 

The repulsion I felt towards Jurian and his sneering, insane face was familiar, at least. 

“Welcome to my home,” Tamlin greeted them. “We have rooms prepare for all of you.” 

“My brother and I shall reside in one together,” said the princess.

Her girlish voice didn't convince me to see her as anything else as she was. But I made myself curtsy and said, “We can easily make adjustments.” 

I felt more than saw Lucien's eyes narrowing at me, his snide remark echoing in my head despite his mouth remaining firmly shut. I wondered what he would say if he knew I shouldn't bow, if he realized how deep my games went and how badly I was fooling them all. 

Brannagh's lip curled in disgust. As if it was a disrespect of me to address her, as if I was a bothersome insect in her face. Her brother seemed to reach the same conclusion and regarded me with the same expression. And yet, they didn't lift their gazes from me. 

“If you're done staring at her, perhaps we can move on to the business between us,” intervened Tamlin, a soft warning in his voice. 

“They're just curious, High Lord,” said Jurian, climbing up the stairs without permission to do so. “It's not everyday that a female of such talents launches a war. Indirectly, of course,” he added as an afterthought. 

Lucien's shoulders tensed, but it was me who followed him. “Maybe if you bothered to go to war over Myriam, she wouldn't have left you for Prince Drakon.” 

He halted, his back rippling with barely restrained rage. I went up the steps separating us, throwing a smirk at him when I passed him. 

“Watch your words, girl.” 

“Don't threaten me in my own home,” I snarled. 

We both had been Made, but he was still very human, and very breakable. And he liked to think I wasn't going to kill him if given the chance. I had to fix that. It wasn't him who I tried to impress now, though, but Tamlin, whose eyes lit up with fascination. Good. 

I walked in through the massive double doors like a spring breeze. Tamlin reached me, caressing my arm as he passed. Lucien was not too far behind us. I smiled at Tamlin as we passed the foyer and went to the dining room, as if I didn't remember how I curled on myself in a corner. 

As if I had forgotten. 

Lucien was right, I was vicious. More than that, actually. It wasn't my fault he didn't know how to listen. 

* * *

The royals were another level of unsettling. The way the acted as if they shared one mind, how Dagdan bend-over backwards to please every wish and order from her sister. And if the extended silences were an indication… they were like me. 

I checked on my mental barriers constantly. 

“We will set out for the wall tomorrow,” Dagdan was saying. Demanding, more like it. The fact that Tamlin did nothing had me burying my nails on the palm of my hand. “Jurian will accompany us. We require the use of sentries who know where the holes in it are located.” 

“Lucien and I can escort you,” I offered.

Tamlin whipped his head to me. I waited for him to deny me, to finally reach his limit. But whatever his opinion was on this, he swallowed it. 

“Lucien and Feyre can show you the wall as well as any sentry.” 

His eyes didn't leave my face while he spoke, waiting for my reaction. I was very careful of not showing a too obvious emotion, but there was no hiding my displeasure in my gaze, in my posture. Tamlin knew I'd never be happy about this, that more than offering Prythian in a silver plate, he was offering the human realm as well. 

“How familiar are you with the wall, lady Feyre?” inquired Jurian. 

“As someone who's crossed it four times now, I'd say pretty well.” The commander chuckled at my tight voice. But when he didn't speak further, I turned to Brannagh. “We'll leave after breakfast.” 

It was blessedly silent for a moment. But Jurian still had an air about him that promised trouble. When his eyes set upon Lucien, I knew he'd picked his next target. 

“I always wondered who made that eye after she carved it out.” 

My eyes went to Tamlin. No one mentioned Amarantha, much less in his presence. Because of course, it had been very hard for him to be her favorite. It didn't compare with being trapped for fifty years—or dying in her hands. His tense posture made me look away in frustration.

“I have an old friend at the Dawn Court. She’s skilled at tinkering—blending magic and machinery. Tamlin got her to craft it for me at great risk.” 

I'd never heard that story. But it made me wonder—wonder where that male was, someone who would risk so much for a friend and not only for himself. 

Jurian smiled. “A competitor for your little mate?” 

I felt more than saw Lucien tensing. Jurian was most definitely insane if the thought he could provoke him and not find his neck broken. Not that anyone would worry much about it. 

“My mate,” Lucien gritted out, “is none of your business.” 

A smirk. “She shouldn’t be any of yours, either, considering she’s probably been fucked by half the Illyrian army by now.” 

It would've been worrisome how intent Lucien was on him, as if he was about to shift into a wolf and jump on him. It would've been, had I not done the same. 

Yet, Tamlin was the one who growled at him, making the silverware and the glasses rattle. “You will behave as a proper guest, Jurian, or you will sleep in the stables like the other beasts.” 

He didn't seem concerned about a High Lord snarling at him. After five hundred years being Amarantha's jewelry, it shouldn't be so surprising. 

“Apologies, lord,” he said, his remorse yet to be found. “But I'm only stating the truth. None of you were in the War, fighting side-by-side with those Illyrian brutes. I suppose you had the pleasure of going against them.” 

“We kept their generals' wings as trophies,” supplied Dagdan. 

“Charming.” 

My face went a little bit green, thinking about the trophies Tamlin's father had kept centuries ago. And that his son might have preserved. _A cat's son hunts mice. _

Jurian threw a smug grin at me. “We fought together, you know? Your mate and I.” 

My hands stilled on the edge of the table as I leveled him a glare. “_He's not my anything._” 

“He must have told you where Myriam is hiding. And Drakon, I guess.” 

A bitter, short laugh. “Do you honestly think I was told anything?” I took a sip from the wine, my hand shook slightly. “You must not know him that well if you believe that. Besides, I’d think you’d have better things to do than obsess over the lover who jilted you.” 

“They say you were fucking Rhysand before you jilted your own lover.” 

That was the last straw for me, I thought. If Tamlin didn't flay him alive, I would and I'd take my sweet, sweet—

That's when I felt the tap on my mental shields and saw the snare lay carefully in front of me. Distract us while the royal slipped through the backdoor. I had one second to act, to put up walls on Lucien and Tamlin's minds. Then reached for the twins'. 

Walls made of white, of bone greeted me. Looming and ancient. It made me want to recoil, but I dug my claws deep and dragged them like nails on a board. They flinched. 

“That's enough,” growled Tamlin. 

The royals and I locked gazes. My powers clawed against their shields once more. They flinched even though they tried to hide it. 

Something was wrong, I thought. Because a headache began pulsing around my temples. Something was really wrong. More than the fact that they tried to take hold of Tamlin's mind. 

Someone was poisoning us. 

* * *

After lunch was finished, I locked myself in my room and tried to put up a shield around me. It left my head pounding mercilessly. I put it down not a second later, not deeming it worth the strain. Then called for Alis. 

She knocked on the door not long after. The only warning I got before she entered my room. “Yes, miss?” 

“Shut the door,” I said quietly. “I need your discretion.” 

She scanned my face, but nodded.

“I need you to find me a tonic, I have a terrible headache. But I don't want it to get it back at Tamlin. Can you do that for me?”. 

Alis stared at me for a moment too long, some… disappointment showing on her face. She nodded and left before I could even begin to wonder. 

There were more pressing issues here, though, so I saved Alis and her knowing looks for later. All I cared about was the antidote I needed, and needed now. It must be some sort of faebane to put so much strain on my powers with only one meal. Unless we had been poisoned for weeks now with increasing doses of it. 

I realized that I had no idea how it worked. If they needed a larger dose or if small, continuous ones would do the job just the same, stripping my powers little by little. I bit my already short nails, and sighed at what I was going to do next. 

My mental shields lowered, opening the gate to the bridge that was the mating bond. It felt like a long hall, shrouded in shadows. It made sense now, I supposed, why Rhys' presence felt so distant. 

I gave a tug. 

The answer came way too much time later with a touch of love. It almost made me regretful of giving bad news. 

_We're being poisoned. _

_ What? _

Even with the distance, I felt his anger and worry. But I made myself explain. 

_A delegation from Hybern arrived today. Prince Dagdan and Princess Brannagh, alongside Jurian. _

_They're daemati, Feyre._

_ I know. They tried to seize Tamlin and Lucien—and me. I put up shields around their minds, but… Gods, my head is killing me. I think it is some form of faebane. _

The desperation in him was almost palpable. He was struggling to not ask me to leave—again. 

_Say the word and—_

_No. I can deal with them. I just need to know if there's an antidote. How to stop it. _

His silence was answer enough. It made me want to cry. Tears stung my eyes but I kept the emotions locked tight. 

_There is no known antidote,_ he said a beat too late. _Only a healer can work it out your system, but it's a long process. _

One I wasn't prepared for, regardless of my gifts. And maybe I wouldn't even be able to get it out on my own. I pressed two fingers to my eyes. 

_I'll figure it out, I promise. _

_ Just be careful, Feyre. _

_ I will be. I love you. _

_ I love you. _

I stroke the bond with a loving hand and withdrew. Then slammed my shields up and let tears fall. By the time Alis came, my eyes were red-rimmed. But I still swore her to silence anyway, claiming nothing was wrong and that it would pass. She stared at me for a long moment, but still left it alone and walked out. 

I was no idiot. I knew she saw through my masks as easily as Lucien did. And yet here we were, acting. Always acting. 

She was no idiot either, for she knew that if it came to it, I was the lesser evil here. What she did not know was that I was the most venomous snake in the garden. It took more than a little bit of poison to stop me. 

* * *

Something became clear for me. 

I needed allies if I wanted to make it out of the Spring Court alive. And I knew who I needed. Even if it was a battle, I needed to make one out of Lucien and I needed to do it quickly. Which left me in a complicated position, a hateful one. Especially for myself. I had to earn his trust only to break it later. 

I hated myself, but I made my choice. Even if I lost him irremediably at the end. 

_I rather be a cruel bitch than a backstabbing one,_ I told him. I'd have to be both. 

It was worth it, I told myself. It had to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I always wondered how Feyre didn't figure out someone was poisoning them before. So I fixed it. Sort of.
> 
> Thank you for your kudos, hits and comments. I love hearing from you guys! Don't be afraid to tell me what you think!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @thestarwhowishes


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter, guys!
> 
> I'm thinking to make the chapters shorter to updated more frequently. Tell me what you think?

A part of me was secretly relieved of not running into Lucien when I got out my room in the evening. I knew I needed to act now, but I couldn't help the loose sigh when I realized I wouldn't be actively betraying my… nothing. Lucien was nothing to me, didn't want to be, and after this, he wouldn't have reasons to. 

At least I still had until tomorrow to start hating myself. 

For now, I had shifting lessons with Tamlin. The moment came too fast and too slow. A truly awful thought came to me. That this whole situation was not dissimilar to when Rhys was teaching me to read and shield. It was too unsettling, so I shoved it to the bottom of a chest in the darkest corner of my mind and let it there for all eternity. 

It costed me, admitting that this was a good thing and that something inside me—probably the seed of power coming from Tamlin—jumped with excitement at the prospect of learning. 

I knocked on the ajar door of his study, peeking in much like I had done the day before. Tamlin looked up at me, a reluctant smile taking possession of his face when he saw me grinning. 

“It's time,” I announced, entering fully and almost vibrating with excitement. 

I didn't miss the long, appreciatively look Tamlin gave me. The fitting shirt and the leggings were more fit for training with Lucien, but distracting Tamlin with my new appearance was too convenient to let it pass. Even when I had to endure his eyes glued to anywhere but my face. 

He leaned back. “It would seem so.” 

I smirked and nodded. There was something unmistakably girlish about my demeanor. And it seemed to be something he rather enjoyed. The implications of it made my headache worse, but I paid it no heed as I sat in the chair across from him. 

“So!” 

“Shape-shifting.”

“Shape-shifting,” I parroted. 

Tamlin sighed and stood. “Come with me.” 

I followed him out through the lonely halls. 

“You look different,” he told me after a while of silence. 

“I'm excited.” 

“You are?” 

_Of course, teach me how to grow talons so I can rip you apart with them. _

I peered up curiously at him. “Shouldn't I be? You're almost always busy, an hour with you doesn't sound bad at all.” 

That made him smile. “Certainly.” 

“You look a little bit tired,” I pointed out. “Are you okay?” 

“Don't worry about it.” 

“You know I worry anyway.” 

It wasn't much of lie, he did look bad. There dark bags under his eyes and the skin on his face hung from his cheekbones. He looked... like someone was sucking the life out of him little by little. I would know. 

He only waved a hand, taking importance away from the topic. “Just a headache. It will pass.” 

I nodded, but my mind had gone elsewhere. It didn't occur to me until now that Tamlin was being poisoned as well and, by the looks of it, he had no idea of it. Maybe… if I told him… 

No. It was too big a risk to take with him, even if I didn't tell him about me and my true loyalties. Tamlin was volatile enough to do something he shouldn't—like confronting the royals. 

I reigned in a sigh. Lucien was still my better choice. 

“Here we are,” he announced. 

He opened the door for me, moving aside to let me in first. I gave him a silly smile and curtsied. I already knew this room. There was something that I didn't like here, and I never found a reason for all the mirrors in the walls. And that was why I never came back since that first time. 

Tamlin caught my head in one of the endless reflections. “Part of the shift is guided by memory alone,” he explained. “You should be able to get most of it right, specially with your artistic eye. But you'll still need a mirror to check and correct.”

It made sense. A lot of it, actually. That fact had me feeling all levels of uncomfortable. I had been at odds with him and opposing him for so long that listening, that him _making sense_ was a little bit too much. It made him seem… real. Close. Less like Hybern's puppet. 

“So, how do we start?” I asked quietly, a small smile on my lips. 

“Come stand here.” He faced a mirror-covered wall. I went to stand next to him, watching our reflection. “Now close your eyes.” I gave him a dubious look. “Do you want to learn or not?” 

“Fine.” I closed my eyes and breathed. “Are you staring at me, Tamlin?” His chuckle was answer enough. 

“The first time I shifted, I shifted into a mouse,” he explained. 

I turned to him, brows raised. “Why?” 

“Close your eyes,” he told me again. I listened. “I was seven and my brothers were bothering me. I sneaked into the kitchen, but I knew if they found me, they would beat me.” 

“They hit you?” I sputtered. 

_“Close your eyes_. And yes, they did. I learned to slip away after a while.” 

Something hideous held my stomach and then twisted its hand. He—had been only a _child_. I could see it vividly, a small Tamlin running through the manor, colliding with the servants, scared out of his mind as I'd seen him so many times before… 

“So you shifted into a mouse?”

“I don't know. I guess. All I knew I was small enough to get between the walls. The point is I wanted it in that moment and somehow it happened. Maybe it can work the same for you.” 

I frowned, wondering what it was like to be in that situation. When I was little, all I wanted to escape was my mother. And when I grew up, her memory, the phantom of her promise, too, at times. 

“Is there anything you ever wanted to change?” 

I stayed quiet for a long moment. 

“The color of my eyes.” 

“Really?” 

“My mother, she had blue eyes. So does Nesta. And while I grew up and started hating them, while I started being as cold as them, I wanted to be more like Elain.” 

Elain. My sister who was younger in ways I couldn't be. Who spent all the money I got, but got me those paintings that summer. Elain gave me and my mate when we both needed it the most. 

I opened my eyes without meaning to, full of tears and still blue. 

“She didn't deserve any of this.” 

Tamlin didn't speak for a moment, for that I was thankful. It was already bad to be telling him any of this. He didn't have the right to have her name in his lips, not when his betrayal was the cause of all my sister's suffering. 

He reached out for me slowly, hesitating. I didn't move to indicate whether or not I welcomed the support, I couldn't make myself incite him even if I wanted to. So at the end, Tamlin only squeezed my shoulder. I closed my eyes again. 

“As I said,” he went on, “it's the memory that acts as a conduct for the shift. And as the rest of your magic, it's something that belongs to you and that you control.” 

“So what you're telling me is I have to will it into existence?” 

“Basically,” he remarked dryly. “It's like… painting. Like taking the image in your head and translating onto the canvas, but _you_ are the canvas.” 

“And what do you know about painting?” I teased. 

“I tried once, not to any good outcomes. But the principle is still the same.” 

I bit the inside of my cheek. “So you're saying I only have to imagine Elain's eyes and it's done?” 

“No, of course not. You'll probably struggle at first, but the more you practice…” 

“I know,” I cut him off. 

Tamlin didn't speak for a moment. I knew I hit a nerve. “I'm sorry I didn't listen, Feyre,” he told me. “I should've taught you when you first asked.” 

Talking to him was a guessing game these days, trying to decipher if his apologies were earnest. If his intentions were good, or if he only was annoyed that Rhys taught me and he didn't. Either way, I looked up at him and made myself smile sadly. 

“It doesn't matter anymore, _he_ doesn't matter,” I reassured him, shrugging even if it was a tense move. “At the end, this will help me, despite…” Despite the torture that learning I made him believe to be. “Let's talk about this another time.” 

He nodded. “I'll leave you to it, then.” 

“You—you're leaving?” 

Tamlin chuckled. “The first conscious shift always takes time, Feyre. You'll concentrate better without me hovering.” 

Biting my tongue, keeping the frustration clear from my face was a battle against myself that I nearly lost. 

“Alright. I'll call you if anything happens.” 

So much for teaching. 

* * *

Nothing happened. Not for the better part of an hour. And yet I felt like I was moving mountains with the will of my mind alone. Or trying to, at the very least. Maybe it was the faebane, maybe it was the fact that this sort of magic was different than summoning my elemental powers, or putting up shields, or even guarding my mind. 

I was sitting in front of the mirror, hitting my head against the glass and making it rattle. The headache only got worse, but I had no idea how to stop the frustration. If I didn't manage to have Tamlin with me there was no way I could wriggle control out of Ianthe's hands. Because while he bend over backwards for my every wish and command, it was her who he listened to, who he trusted. It just couldn't happen anymore. 

“Feyre Archeron, ladies and gentlemen,” Lucien drawled from the door. “Defeated by mirrors.”

I groaned, my forehead still pressed against my reflection. He only chuckled and when I glared at him sideways, there was a little, hateful smirk on his lips. 

“What do you want?” 

“It's time to get ready for dinner,” he told me, still grinning. 

Of course he was enjoying seeing me like this, the prick. I was going to make him pay tomorrow, after I wiped his ass in the ring, and gave him a glare that let him know as much. 

With a sigh, I got up and finally registered what he'd said. Dinner. More poisoning. And Lucien was still oblivious to it. One look at the window told me we didn't have time to discuss the matter at hand. 

I breathed deeply and threw a shield of hardened air around us. Lucien narrowed his eyes at me. 

“Can I come to your room tonight?” 

He crossed his arms on his chest and lifted his scarred brow. “Missing Rhysand already?” 

“You wish you were that lucky,” I spat. “There's something I need to tell you.”

His eye glinted with surprise, but not even the promise of telling him things took away his distrust. 

“Little Lucien?” he drawled. “What an honor, lady.” 

I leveled him a glare. “Stop calling me that.” 

“It's what you are. Or what you will be at some point.” 

He didn't know half of it. 

“Do you want to know or not?” I bit out. “Tamlin is involved, too, if that sparks your interest.” 

And it did, of course it did. Of course he would leave his mistrust aside as long as he made sure Tamlin was fine. It made me want to break something. 

“What is it?” 

Reigning in a sigh I told him, “The twins are daemati, and tried to take hold of our minds this morning.” 

At that, he blanched. “Then why…” 

I gave him a meaningful look that made him understand. Then I snorted. “You are very lucky bastards, in a nest of vipers and you haven't been bitten.” 

His face darkened. “Yet.” 

I nodded solemnly. “Yet. But it'll be better if I bite first, Lucien. And I will, so stop giving me that look.” 

“And what if they do before you can?” 

The words got stuck on my throat, fighting against my tongue. I knew that when they were out, I would be truly damned. But Lucien was not more important than my plans, his opinion of me mattered little. And it was already low anyway. 

So I made myself say, “Then I'll be needing your help. Let's talk it tonight,” I added when he seemed to be about to protest. 

I lowered the shield and left before I fell to my knees and asked for forgiveness. 

* * *

I didn't eat more than five mouthfuls that night, claiming I wasn't feeling well when Tamlin asked. He wanted to beg me to leave the lessons, but he was smarter than that. Because of it, I had an excuse to leave the table earlier. 

I puked first thing when I stepped into the bathroom. The sight of the porcelain bowl was as familiar to me as the gardens outside. And I hated that I had to do this, but it was a necessary evil. Even if the last thing I wanted—or needed, really—was to become weak again. 

A few minutes passed in dizziness and nausea, my skin had broken into a cold sweat. But I got up and rinsed my mouth and face. 

This wouldn't work if I ended up fainting because of dehydration and malnutrition. Especially if I still trained with Lucien and all the energy the magic constantly burned. I drummed with my foot as a solution slowly, painfully came to me. 

With a sigh, I opened the mental bridge between Rhys and me. 

_I need help. _

* * *

By the time I winnowed to Lucien's room, the house had fallen asleep. He was lounging by his desk, already waiting for me.

“You'll find me naked one of these days, and it'll be your fault for not knocking,” he drawled. 

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

“It is my filthiest dream,” he deadpanned. It was a wonder he could speak at all when he used almost no muscles to move his cranky face. 

We glared at each other for longer than it was maturely appropriate. So I decided to be the bigger person in the room and broke the staring match first. 

“We’re being poisoned,” I said. 

Lucien didn't react for a second, then he froze when the words sunk in. 

“_What_?” 

I went to sit on the edge of the bed. We had been in a similar position not so long ago. I had made a threat then, today I came to make a petition. So I told him about what happened at breakfast, about the twins' plans. His expression went from shock to confusion, to anger. 

“Of course,” he seethed, hands running through his hair. “Of course they would do something like this. I can't believe he's so foolish to…” A growl. “Of course.” 

It was all I could do not to blink at him. 

“How did you even noticed?” 

I eyed him carefully. “I use enough magic on a daily basis to notice something is amiss.” But Lucien and Tamlin wouldn't, not at first. “The point is we have to find out how they are doing it, and how to stop them.” 

He squinted at me. “_We_?” 

“You and me.” 

As if someone had snapped their fingers, his expression dropped, turning ice-cold. “Let me guess, Tamlin has no idea.” 

At my lack of reply, he laughed bitterly. 

“That's what I thought. Honestly, Feyre.” 

“You said it yourself, he's not more than a puppet. He will not listen to me.”

“Sure, and it has nothing to do with your revenge plans,” he spat. 

I rolled my eyes. “Believe it or not, Tamlin is not the only reason I am here. Have you stopped to think I am genuinely trying to stop Hybern from destroying Prythian?” 

“How can I believe you?” 

“Don't,” I spat. “It's your choice to do so or not.” 

Lucien clicked his tongue. “I see you lie as easily as you breathe. You're not the epitome of trust.” 

I flinched, there was no hiding it. Lucien didn't seem to believe any of it. All the better for me. Let him think it was just an act. Better than having him know his words stung. 

I stood. “Fine. This still concerns you and your precious High Lord, so I need you to find out what's going on with the food.” 

He scowled at me. “You're not the boss of me.” 

I waved a hand dismissively. “As you wish, then. Be ready to train an hour earlier. I'm teaching you to shield your mind.” 

For once, he seemed stunned to silence. 

“Why?” 

A shrug. “Serves my evil plans.” 

The bitterness coming out of me was almost a palpable thing, but I didn't give Lucien a chance to say anything before I winnowed to my room. Teeth gritted, I made myself breathe deeply to calm the frustration. 

That went smoothly. 

I sat down on the vanity with little grace and even less patience. My reflection stared back, just as tired and angry. Not for the first time I wondered if the person living in the mirror was becoming in something else, something resentful I didn't recognize anymore. 

Maybe Lucien was right. Maybe I was losing the way, and my justice was just another word for revenge.

I had no idea, and I wouldn't find an answer today anyway. So I emptied my mind of useless thoughts and closed my eyes. And concentrated until my temples pounded, but eventually, when I opened again at the mirror, my eyes weren't blue anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you thought about it in the comments!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @thestarwhowishes


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feyre teaches Lucien to shield his mind, we have an unexpected guest and a little bit of Feyre angst.
> 
> ¡Provecho!

If I slept three hours, it was a generous estimation. What used to be light pounding on my temples, had become needles piercing my head from all directions, and then some more.

It was Cerridwen who woke me up with a gentle shake to my shoulder. “Lady Feyre,” she whispered. 

And for a split second, I forgot where I was. Forgot I was at the other end of Prythian and my mate wasn't with me. Then my mind caught up. 

The wraith beside my bed should've been terrifying, but for me it was the most warming sight I'd seen in weeks. There wasn't enough tiredness in my body to keep me from almost tackling Cerridwen to the ground when I hugged her. To my surprise, she laughed and hugged back.

“Don't put a _lady_ in front of my name,” I whispered. “I'm telling Mor.” I let go of her and smiled. The first real smile since I came back. 

“I'm sure she'll love to know. _Feyre_.” Something warm spread through my chest as she smiled back at me. 

“How's everyone?” 

“Healing.” 

Even if there wasn't sign of a lie, I knew she and Nuala had been trained to. Half-truths were often more believable, after all. 

“Cassian? His wings?” I insisted. 

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until she said, “He's recovering still, but he flies again and is out of danger. So is Azriel.”

“And… my sisters?” 

Her smile strained. “Adapting.” 

That was enough for now. I didn't need to know more, not while I could do nothing. Not that there was much to be done anyway. I shook those thoughts away and got out of bed. The smell of food made my mouth water. 

“I think this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life,” I told her, staring at the still steaming breakfast of the vanity. 

“I think it can get better,” she said, at the same time she reached into her jacket and pulled out two envelopes. 

Letters. 

All thoughts of food vanished from my mind. I wasn't proud to say I basically snatched them from her hand. Something in the way she smiled at the joy bubbling out of me told me she didn't mind too much. 

“I shouldn't linger too long, getting in and out is hard as it is,” she said softly. “But I'll be back at midnight.”

It had been the agreement Rhys and I had reached last night. The strain of using the mating bond for so long didn't compare to the struggle of not accepting Rhys' constant offers to go back. Denying him, denying the longing pulling me towards home, was more than I thought I could take. But I dug my heels and Rhys had no other choice than to resign himself to have Cerridwen bring me two meals per day, one before sunrise, and another at midnight. 

I would figure out on my own how to avoid Tamlin noticing I was skipping meals. Until Lucien helped me discover who was to blame for this. If he deigned to do so. That wasn't a worry for now, though. 

I hugged Cerridwen once more before she dissolved into shadows still shrouding my room. A lump formed in my throat at watching her leave. But I clutched the letters to my chest and reminded myself why I was still here. 

Letting loose a breath, I went inside the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. A faelight hovered over my head, just bright enough to read the names written on each envelope. Rhys and Mor. 

I read Mor's letter first. Her scrawl was like her apartment, messy yet elegant, and so her that I was yearning to see my friend again. 

_Rhysand thought it would be a good idea to keep the fact that you would be able to receive letters from me. He was wrong. I can't be bothered to write a proper greeting, so I'll go straight to the point:_

_ I'm going to absolutely throttle you once you come back—and you better come back soon unless you want me and Cassian to get you back ourselves. Things have gotten weird since you left. Cassian doesn't know what to do with his mornings anymore, except flying up and down the House of Wind to strengthen his wings. _

A sigh passed through my lips. I still remembered so colorfully, so vividly the sight of his torn wings. But Cassian was flying, getting stronger. I had to wipe the moisture out of my eyes. 

_But if you ask me that's got more to do with who stays up there than anything else, if you know what I mean. Not that he'll admit. _

So Nesta—and Elain—was up there. Good. Good to know. 

_Amren is enraged—as we all are, mind you—for not telling her about your sudden promotion. So you should begin thinking about the size of the rock you're getting her. A trove of them, actually. Honestly, I might need one of those, too, considering I'm taking the brunt of Rhys' brooding. _

_ But I will be generous and only ask for you to hurry and be back already. Cassian says he won't be so lenient, so good luck with that. At least you have Azriel, he won't judge you. Much. I'm afraid you'll end up liking him better than me. _

_ Just… come home, Feyre. _

_ (I can't stand Rhysand anymore and I'm going insane.)_

The last line made me snort through the knot in my throat. It was a good thing the window was open and the early morning breeze took the scent of my tears away. I would take the throttling if it meant I was with my family again. 

Soon, I told myself and prayed my words were true. 

I set Mor's letter aside and opened Rhys', not ready to read it in the slightest. My hands shook, out of anticipation or—I didn't know. But I began reading. 

_Feyre, _

_ I intend to make this as short as possible, but I'm not really sure if I can manage that. Not when there's so many things I need to tell you. _

_ The first one is that you're complete and absolutely insane. These little stunts you pull would put Cassian to shame. I'm both speechless and a little bit enraged, because out of all our family you resemble to him the most, him and his reckless decisions that is. Now, Mor would argue that you are my mate and that makes us equals. And I suppose there's merit in that, but I will not admit to it under pain of death. _

_ The second thing I need to tell you is that Mor is painfully right and there's no denying we are both cut by the same scissors. But I'm begging you, Feyre, be the better half of us. You once said that you kept my head on my shoulders. Imagine the tragedy. So for the sake of our court, I ask you to come back soon. A High Lord won't survive with neither his head or his mate. _

_ There is also the fact that, once more, your absence has turn my Inner Circle against me. I would call them traitors, if I wouldn't agree wholeheartedly with their frustrations. That, more than our withholdings, seems to anger them further. That I agree with them, I mean. But then again, they are easily riled up these days. Even when I don't mean to upset them. At least you won't be subject to their tempers when you come back. Not as much. _

_ Cassian… Well, he's got things he wants to tell you but he refuses to write them down, even after I told him he could send you one letter as well. He claims that he'll have those words with you face to face. So… be ready. And remember you can shove him off a balcony. _

I cringed at the argument that was waiting for me at home, in the form of a gruesome training session most likely. But an argument all the same. It was still so new, to have someone who cared that much. 

_But I'm getting sidetracked. I'm sorry. What would our enemies say if they knew the High Lord of the Night Court babbles so much? My reputation would go down. _

_ See what I'm talking about? Headless, mate-less High Lords don't survive. So please hurry up and come back. I think I forgot my mind somewhere this morning. _

I had to bite my own knuckle to avoid full-on weeping. My chest shook as I held the letters against it, as if I could hold them and keep them in my heart forever. Only the gods knew how much I wanted to go home, how much I missed the chaotic dinners full of bickering and laughs. 

But not yet. Not yet. 

I threw the letters on the toilet and flushed. My heart fell to my feet, heavy as if it was made of stone. I had to blink away the tears and compose myself. 

Mourning words wouldn't do me any favors, so I indulged in a moment of weakness. But I had to get out, get ready and eat. I was close, close to leaving. I just had to endure this a little while longer. 

So I went right to my vanity, pulled out a piece of paper and wrote, _Burn it after you eat and get rid of the ashes._ Then I winnowed the second meal straight to Lucien's room. 

It had been Rhys' idea, to bring one for him. I'd been feeding him the details of my plans, and how my efforts to make Lucien trust me seemed to be fruitless no matter how hard I tried. 

_Help him_, he said. _He knows not to bite the hand that feeds him. _

The way Rhys spoke of him, cold-hearted, made me want to cry. As if Lucien was no better than a dog. 

And yet I replied, Tamlin _is the one feeding him. _

_He is the one _poisoning_ him. _

Those words had haunted me for hours. 

I knew them to be true. But would Lucien? Or would he still be blind to it until the end? 

At least when we got out together to train, he didn't mention it. I could pretend I didn't have to hate myself for a while longer. 

* * *

No one really knew what was going on inside the training room with Lucien and me, other that whatever happened, Tamlin was aware of and didn't seem to worry about it. Else, we'd have someone snitching on us. Things like this didn't stay a secret in this manor. So when we got up and walked side by side an hour earlier, we received no odd looks. 

Lucien and I didn't train in the barracks, as the sentries did. It was too open, too many prying eyes. And then there was Jurian and the twins. It had nothing to do, of course, with how the sight of their uniforms and the wary glances shot at me made my skin crawl. They hadn't forgotten, and neither had I. 

So we used a private chamber. The walls and roof were made of stone, and a there was square on the floor made of sand. Perfect for someone practicing with fire. But we weren't working on fire today. 

I headed towards a stone bench on the side. Lucien stared at me quizzically. Even though there was no humor inside me, I grinned and patted the stone beside me. 

“Your mind will feel like a puddle when we're done,” I explained. “You better take a seat before you faint.”

“Did you?” he asked as he sat beside me. 

I turned to him, sitting with my legs crossed, a teasing grin on my lips. “No, but I won't mock you if you do.” 

The fact that he didn't bother to be annoyed was a little bit worrisome. Instead, he copied my position and scanned my face. 

“There are bags under your eyes again,” he pointed out. 

“I slept three hours.” 

“You've had them for days.” 

“And I'll have them for a couple more. Now, don't distract me.” 

I let the shields around his mind drop, running my mental claws through it enough for him to feel it. I knew he did when his spine straightened and his shoulder tensed. 

“Feyre…” 

“This is what it feels like.” 

He was shaking. His fear slammed into me, fogging his thoughts with memories I would be able to see if only I stepped closer. But I wouldn't, because they belonged to him. And because I had a feeling I'd see myself, scared and human, with hatred in my eyes. I'd see myself giving Amarantha my name. 

I drew back. 

Pearls of sweat slid down Lucien's temples and forehead. Something like dread sat on my stomach as he growled at me. Even if I was kind of amazed that he had it in him to fight back, to be angry, even if it was at me. 

“I—” 

“Why did you do that,” he demanded. 

My body went still under his wrathful glare. Angry males were volatile creatures, and it would be a long time until I stopped being wary of them. 

“So you could recognize it,” I said evenly. My voice wouldn't tremble. 

“If I wanted to remember, I would've gone to Rhysand,” he seethed. “Not that I need it, because I already _know_.” 

I swallowed and raised my chin. “Fine, now keep me out and never feel it again.” 

The dumbfounded expression on Lucien was almost strong enough to keep his anger at bay. “_What_?” 

“Keep me out.”

“How?” 

“Put up a shield.” 

“A—what?” he sputtered. 

“A shield. Go on.”

He looked like a lost puppy. Until his brows dipped and his forehead wrinkled in a frown. 

“No.”

“No?”

“You had no right to do that,” he said through gritted teeth. 

His fist clenched. My eyes plunged down to his hand, then quickly looked away. If he noticed, I didn't know. 

“I didn't get in, Lucien,” I said. “I only touched your mind enough for you to feel it. Your memories are untouched.” 

He didn't reply. Fuck. I sighed and found his stare. It surprised me to find the anger gone. No, not gone, but controlled. 

“I slipped into your mind once,” I said. “After the Tithe, when Tamlin and I fought. I was untrained and didn't know what was happening. But let me tell you, it was _easy_. You have no idea how easy it was. Now imagine what people like Brannagh and Dagdan can do, they're old and cruel and won't hesitate, won't even make it unnoticeable for you. So if you're not going to take this seriously, better start thinking what you're going to do with yourself once I'm gone, or once my powers are stifled.”

Which seemed to be happening at the same time. I wouldn't be leaving if I didn't have any real information, but without my powers, maybe I wouldn't have a choice. 

Lucien twisted his mouth into a scowl, but I held his stare until he was the one avoiding mine. 

“Did you see—anything?” he asked. 

“I didn't have time to. It happened too fast for me to understand what was going on and only realized when it was over. I was more spooked than anything, being honest.”

He gave me a flat look. “_You_?” 

I rolled my eyes. “It never feels right.”

“But you still do it.”

“I don't like it.” 

“Not even to Tamlin?” 

“No, not even to him.”

Lucien was silent for a moment. Until he blew a breath and ran a hand through his face. “I don't understand you sometimes.”

I pressed my lips together, but the question was clear in my eyes. 

“You're good,” he said, as if he was sentencing me. “You're still good, but you belong there. And you're working on destroying this court.” 

I wanted to tell him, that we weren't what others thought. That there was so much he didn't understand. That Tamlin and this court weren't good just because they were everything Lucien knew. But that wasn't a conversation we weren't ready to have. 

So I simply shrugged. “I don't think I've been a good person ever since I killed Andras. But I made my peace with that.” 

Running my nails in circles on the smooth stone surface, I waited for his response. None came for a long while. It hurt more than I let on. But at least he turned his face to me. 

“How do I put a shield up?” 

“The same you build a wall. Brick by brick.”

Lucien loosed a groan. 

* * *

As expected, Lucien didn't have the energy to spar with me. And as I was a fair teacher, I let him sit on the bench while I exercised. After weeks of doing nothing, I was losing stamina. Cassian was going to kill me, for more reasons than one, apparently. 

“How long did it take you?” 

“Shielding?” 

He nodded. I kept on playing with the ribbon of water threading around my fingers. I had finished a while ago and was now relaxing my muscled, walking circles and playing with magic. 

“Like a week? The hardest part was keeping it up.” He groaned again. “It gets easier after a while. You forget you have it up. Now, put it down and rise it again.”

He took a deep breath, leaning heavily on the wall behind him and did as I asked. His shielding wasn't half bad. But there were still cracks that I prodded. 

_Feel this?_ I asked._ I could slip through this crack. _

Almost immediately, Lucien fixed it up. He didn't show it too much, but I knew the sort of effort it took. Especially with the faebane.

“Do you think you can keep it up?” 

Lucien gave me a pained glance that answered me where his words and pride wouldn't allow him. He wouldn't admit it easily, would he? 

I sighed. “I can shield your mind for now, but you need to practice more.” 

He nodded. It wouldn't do to have him faint while I was still fresh, anyway. It would lead to far more questions I needed. 

“Rest a moment before we go.” 

If my calculations were correct, we had about twenty minutes to change for breakfast and then take the twins and Jurian to the wall. 

“The food helped,” Lucien admitted quietly. Whether because of the exhortation, or because he didn't want to say it any louder, I did not know. I didn't dare move either. “Thank you.” 

I glanced over my shoulder, to find his gaze on me. A weight sat on my stomach. 

“It was nothing,” I said quietly. 

He tilted his head to the side. “Are you trying to bribe me, Feyre?” 

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _

“The Night Court has the best spices I've ever tasted, I made you a favor. Especially back at—home.”

I caught myself before naming Velaris, that wasn't something I could give up easily. Even to him. 

“Home,” he repeated. 

I watched him closely, trying to determine what could be going through his mind. But his face was blank. 

At last, he exhaled and got up, aiming for the door. I don't think he meant for me to hear it when he said, “I wonder what that feels like.” 

_I could show you—if only you'd come with me. _

Pretending that I didn't want him to was futile. I knew myself better than that. I wanted him there, I wanted my friend back and more importantly, out of Tamlin's shadow. I wanted him out of my destructive path. But he insisted on planting himself in the middle of it.

I wondered if Lucien thought I would stop because of him. And how disappointed he would be when I didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided I'm going to make the chapters shorter than I am used to, 3k being my limit, and to update on Mondays. I've never had a schedule before, so I'm not sure if I'm going to keep it, but I have a few chapters already written and I think I can keep ahead of myself (I hope). 
> 
> As always, thanks for the support, guys. I love to hear from you and what you think, so don't be afraid to let me know in the comments.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @thestarwhowishes


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They go to the wall.

Tamlin was tense during breakfast, his movements brittle. He looked like a rope just before it snapped. “Is something wrong?” I asked softly after he gave me one looked too many. 

I raised my brows, daring him to ask me to stay behind. I half-wondered if he reached his limit at last. It didn't seem so, as he shook his head. 

“Just a headache.”

“Still?” I furrowed my brows together, the perfect picture of a worried lover. “Have you taken something?” 

“It'll pass,” he grunted. 

It wouldn't. But I wasn't about to tell him that. 

He looked away, to Jurian, the twins and then Lucien. It was on him who his focus lingered. Lucien straightened under the attention. 

“I will take care of her,” he told him, quietly. 

His words were measured as if not to step a nail of his toe out of line. It was like Lucien was bracing himself for dismissal, but Tamlin nodded instead. Even that bit of acknowledge was enough to shock him, and to ease some weight off his shoulders.

I lowered my gaze to my plate. The food was untouched, of course. I hadn't even filled it. But I glared holes in it anyway. 

_He's the one_ poisoning _him_. 

In more ways than one, I realized. At least he would work out the poison in his system. I wondered how long it'd take to get rid of the poison in his mind. If he'd want to in the first place. 

And as if I wasn't annoyed enough, that was the moment Ianthe chose to walk in. Her robe billowed behind her and a fat beam of sunlight reflected off the jewel atop her head. I searched for Lucien's expression instinctively, he did the same. It seemed like he was doing his best to suppress an eye roll just like I was. 

I tuned her out as soon as she began talking, but remained aware of her movements as she sat next to Jurian after being introduced. Even if he was hideous, the looks she sent his way made me still. They were the same she sent Lucien. The reminder of what she tried to do didn't sit well in my stomach, but I said nothing and kept on playing with the uneaten food in my plate. 

Being in a table full of enemies was the oddest thing, I realized as I watched the priestess try catch Jurian's attention. And failing miserably. It was an effort not to smirk at his disinterest. The twins weren't even bothering anymore. 

Lucien was trying just as hard, it seemed, because when I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, his expression was wickedly delighted. Oh, he enjoyed this. Even more than I did. 

He caught my gaze and looked away quickly. I might have thought he was avoiding me out of annoyance, but his lips twitched and there was an odd air of complicity around us.

I looked down my plate, moving the bits of food this way and that. It reminded me of Amren. Thinking of her sobered me up. 

“... I wish I had been present,” Ianthe lamented. I glanced up again. “The miracle performed on you was something no one will ever see again. It is not everyday people are resurrected, or Made.”

Jurian's fork clattered on his plate as he stared her down. She knew she made a mistake when the table fell silent and all of our attention turned to her, but she kept a pleasant, bland face.

Tamlin was trying very hard not to let the second-hand embarrassment show. I didn't bother.

Jurian at last swiveled his head towards me, bored. “Did she coo over you when you were resurrected as well?” When he realized I wasn't answering what was an obvious yes, he focused on Ianthe again. “It is a shame that you couldn't be there when the other Archeron sisters were Made as well.” I stilled, but he didn't look at me. “Or maybe that was fortunate for you. Only the forgotten gods know what Nesta would've done to you.”

“Don't you say her name,” I hissed.

The twins lifted their eyes from Ianthe and rested on me, narrowing at the same time.

Jurian put up a bland smile, edged by the pull of insanity. “You would think that after facing endless hordes of High Fae, after going against Amarantha herself, I wouldn't know what fear is. But when your sister came out of the Cauldron, lady Feyre, I wanted to _run_.” 

Chills went down my spine. The hairs on my arms stood on end and words fled from my head. Jurian chuckled. 

“Maybe you don't need to bother saving her after all,” he said, and started eating again.

The eerie air around the table never quite left and when we stood from the table, it trailed me like a demon's shadow.

* * *

The woods were silent as Jurian, the twins, Lucien and I trudged through them. Animals scuttled away as we passed by. Which one of them was causing this, I might never know. Even the horses were skittish with their riders, and I honestly couldn't blame them.

Brannagh and Dagdan remained quiet until we reached the wall, getting off their horses on quiet feet and going to inspect it. Jurian was right behind them. Lucien and I shared a look before doing the same.

It was hideous, the wall, its presence repelling everything I was. The only one unaffected was Jurian, who placed a hand on that invisible division. I remembered having done the same thing once, but thinking of doing it now was simply _wrong_. 

“Can you really feel it?” he asked, head tilted to the side.

“It's repulsing,” Dagdan replied. “No wonder our uncle wants to get rid of it. We're doing you a favor.”

Jurian snorted, but didn't say anything. It sounded like a _no, you really aren't. _

Lucien stepped forward, a little green in the face, and said, “The gap is here.” He stopped in front of it, even though no one could see it. 

The twins went to stand next to him while Jurian surveyed the terrain somewhere behind us. I slid closer to them, peering from Dagdan's shoulder. He felt wrong, somehow, even more so than the wall itself. He turned to look at me, the same flat, disgusted stare he and his sister loved to regard me with. I recoiled back, inching close to Lucien. I didn't miss the flicker of amusement at how close we stood. 

“Who cleaved the wall here?” Brannagh asked. 

“We don't know. Some of the holes simply appeared over the years, this one is barely wide enough for one person.” 

“This is the one I came from, the first time.” The twins raised their brows at me. 

I moved closer to Lucien, our arms brushing against each other's. Brannagh studied my movement closely, letting her lips curl in a smirk. “How many holes are in the wall?” 

“We've counted three alongside our borders. Plus one off the coast—about a mile away.” 

“The sea entrances are of no use. We need to break it on the land.” 

I narrowed my eyes at her. “The continent surely has spots, too.”

“Their queens have an even weaker grasp on their people than you do.” More information to study. 

“We’ll leave you to explore it, then,” I said tightly. “When you’re done, we’ll ride to the next.”

“It’s two days from here,” Lucien countered sharply.

I shrugged. “Then we’ll plan a trip for that excursion. What about the third hole?”

Lucien tapped a foot against the mossy ground, but said, “Two days past that.”

“Can both of you winnow?”

Brannagh straightened. But it was Dagdan who answered with an, “I can. Only a few miles if I bear others.” 

I didn't let myself be too pleased about that. They might be trained commanders, but they weren't powerful. Not like I was. I nodded and headed towards the trees, Lucien following me immediately. Until the royals and Jurian were out of sight and sound. 

“You are insane,” he told me. 

He'd stopped a few feet behind, but I kept on walking. “And why is that?” 

“What are you looking for?” I could almost hear his frown. 

“Fruit.” 

Lucien didn't provide a direction where I could find some, so I had to rely on my nose. Like a hound. He followed me in silence the farther I went, as if he didn't want to let me out of sight. 

“Why am I insane?” I asked after a while, the quiet was bothering me. 

“They're dangerous, Feyre, and you're toying with them.”

I turned to him, my chin dipping and my brows lowering. “A bad habit of mine, I'm sure,” I said flatly. “Amarantha, Rhysand, Tamlin, now the royals, and Jurian. I can't stay away from trouble, can I?” 

A muscle flickered in his jaw, but he didn't say anything. I rolled my eyes and kept on searching. 

“Are there any apple trees out here?” 

“No.” 

“Orange?” 

“No.” 

I whirled, a brow arched. “Anything?” 

“Pears.”

“Honestly,” I muttered. His lips curled between a sneer and a grin. “Would you please show me the way?” 

A roll of his eye. “Well, if you ask so nicely.” 

I gestured for him to lead the way. He picked up his pace, bypassing me and turning left. 

He was still tense around me, even more so with the royals and Jurian behind us, but he didn't seem as closed-off anymore. 

“Did you ever get around to giving away my jewels?” I asked quietly. 

I caught up with him in time to see him swallow hard. “Yes.” 

There weren't many things I hated that much. Not really. Hell, I wasn't sure I even hated Tamlin, but the way Lucien spoke quietly, as if not to disturb, as if to pretend himself away, that I truly hated.

“What happened to you, after I left?”

He stilled for second, his eye going to me and then looking away. His shoulders curved, trying to protect himself. “I don't want to talk about it.”

I stopped in front of him, my hand on his shoulder, despite him avoiding my eyes. I wasn't expecting him to flinch. It made me reel back, take my hand away.

“What did he _do_?” I whispered in horror.

“The pear trees are this way,” was his answer as he moved around me.

Something ugly constricted my chest, choking the air out of me. Yet, I turned on my heels and followed him, clenching my hands. And then relaxing them. Lucien didn't need more reminders.

The pear tree was bursting with ripped fruit. Many more rotten on the ground. Lucien started plucking them out of the branches, biting one and packing the rest. Smart male.

I made it my job to empty the flasks of water by burning it. He gave me a funny look, but when I rose my eyes at him, he kept on avoiding me. Burning things helped little. But at least I wouldn't set Tamlin's head on fire when I saw him next. 

Probably. 

“I sold off the better part of your jewels before he found out,” he said, playing with the bitten pear in his hand. I stopped to look at him. “Things were bad, ever since you first left. And they only got worse after the meeting with the other High Lords.” He was going to say something else, but shook his head. “I couldn't keep doing it anymore.” 

I felt like someone was kicking me in the stomach. Why had he stayed? Why hadn't he come to me? 

But I said none of it, limiting myself to frowning and saying, “I'm sorry.”

Lucien shrugged it off. “It wasn't your fault.” 

“It wasn't yours either.”

He avoided my eyes again, as if ashamed. 

“I suppose it wasn't.” 

I bit my own tongue and stayed silent. It was the better I could do. Lucien didn't want me to be angry on his behalf, even if no one else seemed to be. Not the others, not himself. 

He was quiet, nibbling on his pear while I walked by his side, also eating fruit. Our packs were full of it, some more had been winnowed back to the manor—or wherever Lucien kept his things. I didn't dare using magic, for I knew I would need most of it in the upcoming days. And with the faebane straining it already… 

“Would you have fought on their side? Or would you have fought for the humans?” I asked. 

Small talk, small steps. Any efforts with Lucien were, these days. The gradual shifting in our stormy relationship felt like another sort of strain, worse than any inhibitors. I knew what I had to do, knew what it would do to him, and I wasn't stopping it from happening, despite having infinite chances to. 

“I would've been part of the Fae-human alliance,” he told me. 

“Tamlin said something like that to me once, but here you both are, working with them.” It was disgusting, really, how I preached about morals. I wanted to kick myself. “Why?” 

“Tamlin wanted an out, and he saw one. Hu must have thought the King was the lesser evil. Don't make that face, Rhysand's reputation doesn't lend itself towards compassion, exactly.”

I wanted to argue, but this time I swallowed my words, however bitter they might be. “And you?” 

“What is it that you want to hear?” 

“I just want to understand.” 

He said nothing. Again. It drove me up the wall every single time. Because Lucien never answered the hard questions, never admitted what he refused to acknowledge. Whatever it was. That, more than anything, was what bothered me the most. The in-between he was in and didn't want to get out of, his refusal to pick a gods-damned side already and stop letting others make choices for him.

He didn't want to side with Hybern, but he didn't want to admit it was wrong of Tamlin. I wanted to pull my hair out. But I let it be, for the moment. We were nearing the camp and these discussions were for our ears only. 

When we reached it, the others were already waiting by the horses. My face was already a bland mask of meekness, but theirs were suddenly lit by amusement. 

“Careful, Lucien,” Jurian sneered. “You see what happens to males who touch the High Lord’s belongings.” 

I didn't have it in me to feel guilty over it. 

* * *

Ianthe was waiting for us in the stables as we rode in. Her introduction at dinner wasn't humiliating enough, apparently. Whatever suited her, it didn't affect me anyway. I was more preoccupied about how I would get off my mare. After months of not having to ride—a perk that came with having winged companions—I was more than a little bit stiff. 

I caught Lucien's eye and shot him a pleading look. The prick deadpanned at me. For a moment I thought he would leave me to rot, but he came my way and helped me. The dispersing party was all too aware about it. Ianthe's eyes pierced holes in my head. I only gave him a tiny smile and patted him on the shoulder, to what he bowed his head. 

“A successful journey, I hope?” Ianthe chirped. 

It took me too long to realize I was the one supposed to answer her, since Lucien didn't seem inclined to do it. 

Not rolling my eyes was a battle effort, but I made myself gesture with my chin at the royals. “They seem pleased.” 

I hadn't ignored their content expression—as content as people so hideous could be—but I didn't dare ask about that. Not yet. 

The priestess bowed her head. “Thank the Cauldron for that.” 

_For taking them and the King a step closer to bringing the wall down and make us all their slaves?_ Sometimes I thought I would fuck everything up and put my hands around her neck until she was blue and no longer breathing. 

“What do you want,” Lucien asked flatly. 

Her brows twitched, begging to get turn into a frown, but she only lifted her chin. “We’re to have a party in honor of our guests—and to coincide with the Summer Solstice in a few days. I wished to speak to Feyre about it.” A two-faced smile. “Unless you have an objection to that.”

“He doesn't,” I bit out. She looked at me carefully, as if trying to read my mood from my face. I only gave her an icy glance, but said, “Give me an hour to eat and change.”

She lit up at that, but I was already dragging Lucien by the arm without giving so much as a goodbye. Her eyes flickered to my hand touching him, a flash of something hideous and then she disappeared from view. 

Lucien was tense, his form near trembling, as we walked through the perfectly trimmed grass of the garden. With a last look over my shoulder, I decided we were out of range. 

“What happened between you two?” I hissed. 

“I don't want to talk about it.” 

That told more than he believed. I felt as if someone had thrown a brick at my head, like some mighty god had dropped a boulder on me. 

“Lucien—” 

“No, Feyre.” He turned to me, desperation clear in his eye, in the way he kept glancing around like someone might hear him. “I won't tell you just to listen to you saying what I already know, that I should've left. But guess what, I didn't. This is on me.” 

He stalked off before giving me the chance to utter another word. I didn't have any to say. 

A snake wrapped itself around my throat and squeezed all the air out of me. Alone now, I tried to take it off me, to little avail. My hands clenched and unclenched. I repeated the motion until I stopped shaking with barely restrained rage. 

I didn't know what had happened, but I had a feeling that when I found out, someone would end up in bloody ribbons. And it wouldn't be me. 

* * *

Tamlin, weirdly enough, wasn't waiting for my return in the foyer. Good. There was no hiding just how upset I was. 

_Upset_. 

That was a light way to put it. 

The house was quiet, distant steps from the servants echoing in the empty hall. That was where I headed to, until I found a young—at least she seemed to be—High Fae, then asked her to bring food to my room. She was skittish, kinda like a spooked horse, and was quick to scurrying off. I still freaked people out, it seemed. Something I would definitely have to get used to now, with my new status. 

That was a worry for later. Right now, I needed to change clothes and then deal with the viper that was the High Priestess. I didn't know what use it could be, but I dearly hoped something might come out of it. If I had to endure hours of her bullshit without any reward in it, I might just stab her. If only for making me go through it. 

I didn't sense Lucien's presence across the hall when I entered my room. But there was a backpack on my bed that definitely hadn't been there when I left. 

Frowning, I went to inspect it. The scent of pears told me what it was before I could reach it, but I opened it anyway. 

My eyes stung. 

Here he was again, doing things he didn't have to, helping me when he wasn't supposed to. Small acts of kindness I wasn't deserving of, not from him. And I was a fool, I was a fool because I was growing used to it again. 

It was like grieving someone who hadn't died. Someone I was about to stab in the back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Tell me what you thought in the comments, I'm always glad to hear about you. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @thestarwhowishes


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter up! Enter more sneaky Feyre, and another shifting lesson.

Ianthe was every bit the snake I remembered her to be when we were left alone. Despite knowing I could—and would—set her hair on fire if provoked, she insisted on condescending me. Which was all levels of amusing as it was aggravating. But first, of course, it came the ass-kissing.

“I'm very happy you agreed to join me, Feyre,” she said as soon as I entered the parlor.

I never knew how good of an actress I was until I was faced with her, and kept a stoic face.

A shrug. “It is my job to take care of these things, isn't it?” My words didn't scream friendliness exactly, but at least it wasn't outright hostile.

And the words themselves, the way I spoke left much to think. As if I was going to stay, despite neither me or Tamlin making a statement of where our relationship stood. This was sure to get to his ears, though. Along many other things, if she was to be trusted to keep her magnificent streak when it came to snitching on me.

“Still,” she said pleasantly, humbly. “I'm glad we could start over, after my mistakes.”

“Right. Save it for when I get my sisters back,” I lied as I sat across from her in the working table. 

Not that I planned to let her breathe near them, or breathe at all. 

Her bland smile dropped and she looked down at her lap. “Once again, I am—”

“No. Don't start it. It's not me who you should apologize to, and it's not me who will grant forgiveness.”

She peered up at me through thick lashes, guilt-ridden, teal eyes pleading for compassion.

“I'm still sorry I broke your trust.”

I didn't answer for a moment, holding her gaze as if considering. But ended up glancing down at the planification books she so loved to keep and cleared my throat. “So, about Solstice?”

A clear dismissal if there was any. She knew me, she knew that I didn't forgive easily when it came to family and so I couldn't give in so soon. But I let a sliver of hesitation show. Let her think she was getting me to open up to her again.

“Right. I was thinking about...”

And so it began the longest hour of my life, spent discussing the merits of garlands and ribbons, of pure white and cream. It reminded me too much about my wedding. An excuse for her to act mighty and knowing and superior while I listened and nodded. I was sure she loved that.

“Oh, are you tired already?” she asked when she noticed me picking up at a thread in my dress.

Despite my seemingly uniterest, I heard closely what she was saying about the ceremony before the festivities. She, without realizing, had given foot to my next—and hopefully—one of my last schemes.

“I'm sorry, what?” For the sake of it, I made myself blush a little.

Ianthe gave me a knowing smile. “You are tired.”

“A little,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Maybe we should take a break.” She giggled when I whooshed out a breath of relief. “We could call for refreshment.”

“No, thank you. I just had lunch.” One that I burned and threw on the toilet. “But you could have some brought here if you're hungry.” 

Another pleasant smile. “Oh no, I already had lunch as well.” 

Right. Weird, considering she was the one who brought it up at all. I didn't let my face change as suspicion rose. But this bitch would, she would poison us all—including herself—to score points with Hybern. 

My first thought was that I had to tell Lucien. Then I clicked my tongue at myself, much like Mother used to do when I smeared my dresses with paint. Since when did I tell him things? Since when had I decided it was a good idea to trust him, and to expect him to help me? A fool, that's what I was. 

“May I ask you a question?” Ianthe said timidly.

I snapped my attention to her again, and nodded slowly. Small doses of trust she snatched from me at any opportunity.

“You seem preoccupied lately—distressed. And I've noticed it sometimes affects your... relationship with Lord Tamlin.” She'd seen no such a thing. I bet all my money the jerk himself had told her about our arguments. “Is everything all right?”

Again, I took my time before answering. Debating the merits of telling her what thoughts plagued me, or simply tell her to mind her own business.

With a deep, hesitant breath, I told her, “It's nothing of importance.”

“Are you sure?” 

I glanced around, checking for hidden ears. When I found none, I bit my lip. 

“Things seem to be kind of... off, since I came back. With Tamlin and Lucien, I mean. There's this tension around them and I can help but think it's my fault somehow. I know that what Lucien said at the meeting with the High Lords was incorrect and—well. But I feel guilty that he is still paying for it.” 

She raised her brow, taken aback by the unexpected topic. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Lucien is really sad that things are so bad between him and Tamlin. He's been punished enough.”

My eyes moved from the table to her face and blanched a little bit. Remembering myself, my face closed off. 

“I shouldn't have.” 

“I'm always happy to hear,” Ianthe cut me off, her hand reaching mine. I moved it away. 

I looked away before I could see what face she made, and focused on the garden outside the window. 

“I know you regret it,” I said in lowly, “but I can't—I can't forgive you until I know my sisters are safe.”

She nodded sympathetically. “I understand.”

“I need to go.” 

I made my voice strain to almost a breaking point. Ianthe gave me an alarmed look, guilt. Almost as fake as my red eyes. 

Ianthe didn't stop me when I left the parlor in a hurry, but I felt her satisfaction. I was trusting in her again, telling her things despite being angry at her. Let her, let her try and come to me. I'd be waiting for her with a grin and death in my hands. 

* * *

Tamlin took me into the room with mirrors again. His expression had been guarded and his shoulders were tense. I had the feeling he was upset, but I couldn't tell at what, or whom. 

I made myself oblivious to it.

“How was your day?” I asked cheerfully.

“It was all right,” he clipped. My brows twitched but he gestured for me to stand in front of the mirror like yesterday. “Did anything happen at the end?”

“Actually, yes,” I said, a smug grin on my lips. Tamlin seemed genuinely shocked to hear it. “Look.”

It took me a quite long moment and a lot of focus, but I summoned the brown eyes. Even if I spent last night practicing, it was still hard. The magic still foreign. 

“You _do_ look like Elain,” Tamlin mused. 

My sister's name made my heart ache. “I suppose so,” I said quietly. “What's next?”

“Changing hair and eye color, and keeping the shift.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Why?”

“It's easier to control the power better by making small changes with body parts you're already familiar with. It's easier to change the shape of your lips than it is to grow horns or wings.”

“Makes sense.” It was still unsettling. “So, change colors first.”

“And keeping it.”

“Right. So, hair?” 

I focused again on the mirror, remembering the way the magic felt when changing colors and willing it to change again. My eyes remained open this time, all my focus on every strand of hair. I braided myself this morning, only for the pleasure of Ianthe seeing me as anything less as the perfect doll she wanted to control. 

Alis had leveled me a glare because of it. But if she could keep her suspicious quiet, her opinions on my hair shouldn't pose a problem for her. 

But my thoughts were straying. 

The magic was thumping somewhere inside me, like a second heartbeat, wanting to go out. But it was like there was a solid veil I couldn't cross no matter how much I crashed into it. Over and over, and over again. 

My shoulders fell and I scowled. 

“What is it?” Tamlin asked. 

“It—it's weird. I feel the magic but I can't, uh...” I snapped my fingers repeatedly, trying to find a word that could accurately explain it. “It's like trying to hold water. It just slips through my fingers.” I gave him a helpless look.

He sighed. “This kind of power is not something you hold and manipulate with your hands. You find the origin within yourself and lead it where you need it to go.” 

I threw a dubious look his way, and decide to follow the instruction. It was a blizzard down in hell, but Tamlin was the expert this time around. It pained me to admit it. 

I focused again, feeling the changing well that was my magic. I tried to picture it as a lake, a pond. Something stagnant. It was my job to give it a path, to make it flow like a river, to create a watershed for it. 

And it was no easy task. Not at all. I had to dig it myself, with my hands and nails. But I managed to get the power to move, to reach my toes, the tips of my hair, the tip of my fingers. It felt alive somehow. 

And then it happened, my hair changed when I willed it. It was a gradual process, like the sky changing colors as the sun sets, but the golden-brown darkened into the color or fresh earth, to the color of the darkest hour of night. 

My lips parted in awe, surprise. I didn't mean to look at Tamlin, to search his face for the same shock, but I did and it wasn't completely fake. He seemed pleased, his eyes shone with pride. 

“It wasn't so hard after all, huh?” 

I was too amazed to offer an answer. I picked up my braid, touching it and rubbing strands of hair between my fingers as if the color would come off like ink. It didn't. 

I inhaled and exhaled, deeply, a soft exclamation going along with it. Then I put it all aside in favor of focusing again on tamlin. “Alright,” I breathed, “what's next?” 

He laughed softly and summoned two identical short swords. “Now we spar.” 

“We—” I blinked up at him, at the sword he offered me. “Are you... sure?” 

The smile he gave me was a gentle, guilty one. “You're talented, Feyre,” he said. “But now you need to learn not to lose focus, while having half of your attention on another task. So we spar.” 

I had trouble believing the sight in front of my eyes. I thought I was ready for anything when I decided to come back, but this—_this_—was not something I could've predicted, could've expected to see in my immortal life. 

Tamlin, out of all people, offering _me_ a weapon. 

It made me kind of speechless, but I took it nonetheless, lest he believed I wasn't comfortable. 

Despite my sudden inability to speak or think right, my mind was already squeezing all the advantage I could get out of this situation.

Once, I worried that I wouldn't be able to go against him and come out victorious. Mostly because I wasn't properly trained back then, but also because I had no idea what to expect from Tamlin. What his moves were, his weaknesses. 

Sure, I threw myself at him with a sword that day, but that had been me attacking blindly while he blocked me. This, this was almost too good to be true.

“So the objective is for me to not drop the shift and to keep up?” I said at last.

He smirked at me. “If you can.” 

I sort of wanted to get out of my own skin. Because… because this wasn't as awful as it should be. Because Tamlin was egging me on to play with him and he was succeeding, and I didn't want to think why it was so important to me to show him just how talented, just how good I was, how much better. 

I gave him a cocky grin, even if it was shaky, and walked towards the center of the room. “On the contrary, will you be able to keep up?” 

I hadn't held a sword for weeks, but the weight felt familiar. The stance. Legs spread, knees bent. Tamlin mimicked the position, eyeing me like an adversary. It was clear in a moment that he didn't consider me a good one. Perfect. That always was his problem, and would be his weakness at the end. 

“So,” he said. “Are you going to attack?” 

“Are _you_?” 

And he did. I raised my sword to parry his attack and moved around him. I got an opening, a vulnerable spot in his ribs that looked very tempting, ready for me to kill. But I held back, didn't even press the flat of my sword there. 

Tamlin whirled quickly, reassessing me again. He didn't expect me to be strong enough to hold off his blows, or quick enough to avoid them. 

“Good. But your hair is going brown.” 

Changing it to black was easier this time around, but Tamlin didn't give me time to rest as he came at me again. I kept on deflecting, never going on the offensive, dancing around him. He realized I was quick on my feet, but there was no reason for him to know I could fight back. 

“Your hair is changing colors again," he said between swings of his blade. 

He was strong, but he wasn't putting all his strength behind the blows. And yet, I couldn't focus for the life of me. My mind was working in two different places all at once and if I picked one, I'd fail the other. 

At the end, I ended up with the dull point of his blade under my chin when I finally decided to focus on the shift. 

I was breathing heavily, out of annoyance more than exhaustion. It was written plain as day on my face, for Tamlin lowered the blade and smirked.

“Don't start,” I protested.

“I think I know what's your issue,” he told me. “It's like you're wearing a costume instead of believing this—” he gestured to my hair “—is you.” 

I sighed. “So it's like playing make-believe like when I was a child?” He gave me an odd look. “You've played that, right?” 

Tamlin waved a hand. “I must not remember. But I think so? It's not believing, per se, it's you being dark-haired, or having brown eyes. They're part of you as your hands are.” 

I nodded. “So…” 

“Get used to it. Learn to change and live in a body that is not the one you're used to.” 

“It took me months to get used to this body,” I said quietly. 

Tamlin grimaced. “I'm sorry.” 

“There's no need.” I smiled sadly. “It already passed.” 

My most used phrase these days. _It passed. It means nothing_. But my face, my tone told another story. And that's what Tamlin saw, focused on, and forgot to pay attention to the other things. Much like I did with fighting and shifting.

“Do you miss it? being human?” he asked quietly, hesitant. A shitty attempt at giving me the chance to talk it out. 

These tricks would've worked wonders months ago. It was a little too late now. 

I thought about it for a moment. “No. there's nothing for me back in the human lands, never was. And I was weak, and now I'm not anymore.” 

The first part was true, but the second couldn't be further from reality. I had been strong. Easier to break, yes, but still strong to live here and not give up. It had been my strength that freed him. I seriously wondered how he could ever see me as weak, when the weak one was him. 

I shrugged. “I guess having these awkward ears is a fair trade.” 

His smile was subdued and mostly aimed at his shoes, but when his eyes went up to my face again, they were filled with love. His twisted, suffocating version of it. 

“They are?” 

“Gods, yes." I laughed, he followed for my sake, but there was still guilt in it. “I always fold the tips when I tuck my hair.” 

Tamlin shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. My antics amused him. That was all I did for him when I wasn't fulfilling his controlling issues.

“Maybe you could shift them to be curved again,” he said.

The idea had crossed my mind, but I didn't think I would. It would be a slap to the face for my sisters. 

“Do you think I'm that advanced yet?” I teased, but there was a hopeful tilt to my voice.

“You're getting there,” was all he told me. “Your progress is honestly faster than I thought.”

I beamed. “You think so?” Tamlin nodded, albeit a little bit reluctantly. “I—thank you.” 

He raised his hands in the air. “You're the good student here. This is all you.”

Cassian had told me something along those lines months ago. The memory put a real foundation to the sadness in my next words. 

“Thank you for teaching me. I know I do things that put you on edge sometimes, and I am really grateful that you put up with me. It means a lot.”

I stood closer to him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, letting my fingers trail the length of his jaw. He leaned on the contact, covered my hand with his and took it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

“I know what your freedom means to you, I'll never be mad about it.” Bold words from someone who seemed to grit his teeth behind his smiles a fair amount. “_You_ mean a lot to me.”

The sad smile dropped off my mouth, becoming a grim line as I looked away for a moment. Tamlin's reflection showed the signs of distress everywhere I laid my eyes on. I let out a breath.

“There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a while,” I lied, still not looking at his eyes.

Tamlin straightened. “What is it?”

“On Calanmai, did you—did you and Ianthe—”

“No.”

The flatness of his tone gave me pause. I made myself look at him, brows raised. “Someone else, then?”

“No. I—I didn't participate in the Rite.” My surprise wasn't totally fake. “I couldn't.”

“Who?”

A beat of silence. 

“Lucien.”

My stomach twisted. I sort of wanted to throw up. The pieces started to click, one by one. How desperate Lucien had been to get away from me earlier, how—how ashamed.

My face was etched in horror, and disgust. And... I was angry, with no way to really hide it.

“What is it?” Tamlin asked.

“Nothing. I'm just—” I shook my head. “Nothing.”

Tamlin frowned, looking down at me. Something vile was beginning to take hold, something uglier than just jealousy. 

“You're mad.”

I didn't answer.

Tamlin vanished the sword in his hand and mine, then crossed his arms. “Why does it bother you he slept with someone else?”

I bristled, my eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to imply here?”

“Answer the question.”

“Answer mine,” I snapped back.

But he didn't. A muscle flickered in his jaw, his eyes were hard on me again. I didn't move to speak, or as to so much as look away. 

“Well? Why does it bother you?”

“It doesn't,” I gritted out. “What bothers me is that you let them do it when you know he hates her.”

Tamlin was taken aback by my blunt answer. Even more so by the clear call out, I didn't call out his bullshit. Never. And I almost regretted it, that I strayed too far out of character.

“I didn't push Ianthe into that cave.”

“You didn't try avoid it.” 

Too close home, these words. Too damn close. His patience was beginning to wear thin, I saw it in the flare of his nose. 

“What do you care?”

My patience was flagging, too. 

I clenched my fist. “Lucien has done everything for you and you treat him like crap. The least you could have done was prevent him the regret.”

“You seem to care a great deal about his feelings lately, don't you?”

“That's because you won't,” I seethed. I looked away again, brows set in a displeased furrow. “I can't believe you would actually imply I might have an interest in Lucien,” I whispered. “I thought we were past that.” 

Tamlin cursed under his breath. I glared at him sideways, but he only rubbed his face. I wasn't fooled when he let his shoulder drop the tension. It would come back if I pushed him just enough.

“You're right. Feyre, I just—” he cut himself off.

“You what?” I nearly spat. 

“Nothing. I'm sorry.” 

I liked it when those two words came out of his mouth. As fake as they might be. It didn't matter, I would make him sorry for real. Soon. And then Ianthe. But for now, I had to pretend. 

Pretend I wouldn't snap their necks as soon as I got the chance.

I sighed. “I care about Lucien, you know that.” The complaint was was barely there, despite my wanting to sound mad. “But it doesn't compare to what I feel for you, you know that, too. Even if I can't—can't demonstrate it right now.” 

Not with the mating bond telling me to puke when he as so much touched me farther than my elbow. It wasn't unheard of that mated couples had issues in being intimate with others, no matter how much hatred they bored for their mates. And me, who had always been susceptible to Fae senses, I could hardly be touched without being sick. 

Regret took hold of Tamlin's features almost instantly. Nothing like bringing up my supposed trauma to make him regret ever single word that had ever come out of his mouth towards me. 

“I know, I am sorry," he repeated quietly, eyes downcast. “I promise I'll be better.”

“What about Lucien?” 

Tamlin didn't answer for a moment, but he couldn't fight my pleading eyes, even though he tried. 

“I will be better,” he repeated. “I will do better.” 

The smile I gave him was a small one. The rage burning bright inside me was not. But I took his hand and squeezed it. 

“Thank you.”

“I'd do anything for you.” 

A lie if there ever was one, but one we both indulged in. 

“We got sidetracked,” I said. “Tell me what to do now.” 

He was thoughtful for a moment. “I think you have the principle of the shift already mastered, what you need now is learn how to keep it up. Turn your eyes brown again and keep them like that.” 

I followed his instruction, the shifting easier this time around. Tamlin gave me a long look, but approved of it at the end. I thought he might have said something else. 

“We should go prepare for dinner,” he told me instead, offering his arm.

I let him lead me away, our argument done. But I wouldn't forget any time soon. _You let them do this. You did this to your friend. _I guess I'd still had hope for him, that there was some good in him, because I buried it under the my hatred.

I hated him, and I didn't care anymore. Didn't care if this was nothing but revenge, he would get what he deserved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you thought in the comments!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @thestarwhowishes


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Lucien's POV, guys!
> 
> Is it unfair of me I wrote one for Lucien and not one for Rhys? Maybe. But here we are.

**Lucien**

I was at my rope's end, I knew that.

I had been for a while. But this had become too much. The secrets, the plotting, the threats. It was just as Feyre had said, a viper nest. Ianthe, Jurian, the twins. Feyre herself. It was like walking a gods-damned tightrope all the time, balancing my weight to remain standing. 

I wondered how long that would last. When the rope would snap at last, and in which side would I fall on. I couldn't tell which one was worse. 

(That was a lie, though.)

Today it was the twins, grunting about being kept waiting to go to the wall, but still making the most of it, extracting information about Tamlin's forces. And actually _getting_ answers. The fool, the cursed fool, fed them all. 

I hadn't dared speak, neither had Feyre, who was listening quietly in the corner. Gathering the information and hoarding it like a drake in a cave, I was sure. 

She was good, I always knew that, but she had surpassed all of my expectations and then some. That girl could act. 

Fooling Tamlin wasn't really hard, especially when she held so much sway with her face and body alone. But I was still a little bit awed at how seamlessly her different masks came together, how Tamlin didn't think twice about her, and her requests.

Feyre was a manipulating snake, but she was a harmless one. 

No, that was wrong. There was no _harmless_ where Feyre was concerned, but she wasn't... she wasn't _evil_. Not like Brannagh and Dagdan were. And she cared. I hoped she did, at least, as foolish as that could turn out to be. 

Dinner was already stressful for me to drive myself crazy with useless thoughts, so I kept them off my head for the time being. Hopefully forever, too. 

Ianthe was the first one to arrive, shooting a sultry grin my way. My stomach felt leaden. 

Jurian and the twins came in next. I didn't think the sight of them would be welcome in any capacity, but it was. All moments I didn't have to spend alone with Ianthe was welcome. It felt easier, somehow, to ignore the constant, filthy glances. If everyone else could ignore it, then so could I. 

Tamlin and Feyre came in shortly after. She was clinging to his arm, smiling and muttering something only for him to hear. She had a content look on her face. It was hard to tell it was a lie. 

They came to sit, Feyre beside me and Tamlin at the head of the table. He greeted us and proceeded to fill the table with food. I watched the others pile up food on their plates. 

I glanced at Feyre from the corner of my eye. Then did a double take. Centuries of keeping my face schooled kept me from widening my eyes. There was no hiding how my breath hitched and my heartbeat trying to get free of my ribcage.

Brown eyes stared at me. 

I gulped. The faebane-laced wine looked more tempting by the second. Suddenly I didn't care if my magic was stripped from me, as long as I could drown out the sight of those brown, doe-like eyes. 

What I'd seen that day in Hybern, had been full of terror and agony. These ones... they were undoubtedly Feyre's, the clever twinkle in them. 

And still.

Still I couldn't look away, even though I wished to. Desperately so. 

“A shifter Lady to a shifter High Lord," sneered jurian, a hateful smirk in his mouth. 

Feyre's attention went to him, pinned him down with an unreadable, hard stare. It was unsettling to behold. So I made myself focus on the table. I wasn't listening to the words Feyre snapped at him. 

I wasn't listening at all. 

The brown eyes kept haunting me long after I excused myself from the table.

* * *

**Feyre**

I didn't mean it. 

I honestly hadn't thought twice about the color of my eyes. How it would affect Lucien. Tamlin had asked me to keep them, to work on my focus, to make it a second nature. It was like learning to shield my mind all over again, and I _hated_ it. I had all the more reasons to, now that I realized what I'd done. But changing them mid-dinner would've made it worse. 

Lucien left earlier, before any of the others. I don't think they noticed the connection. But I sure as hell did, and couldn't just let go of it, just as he wouldn't. 

He was in a sour mood in the morning, his movement brittle and tight, like he couldn't move quite alright because of the tension lining his body. At least, he could blow some steam while training. 

I hoped. 

He didn't mention any of it, of course. He was proud and stubborn like that, he would run off a cliff before admitting I got to him. It was written on the furrowed brows, anyway, on the scowl in his mouth.

“Morning to you, too,” I snipped. 

Maybe some of his foul mood was influencing me. Lucien grunted an unintelligent response.

I rolled my eyes and dropped the shield around Lucien's mind. “Okay, then. Put up shields on your mind while we spar and don't drop them.” 

If he was too angry to bother with words, then he was too angry to protest. What was worse, I knew he wouldn't, just like he wouldn't ask me for a break until he fell face-first on the sand. 

Stubborn prick. 

Lucien and I warmed up without muttering a word. I hated it. It gave me space to think about _why_ I cared what he thought about me, when I reached the conclusion it didn't matter at the end. It still stung. 

Maybe because it was unjust. Many of the things I did earned me this treatment, but Lucien thinking that I would go to these extremes only to make him feel miserable was something I didn't want to accept. 

_You're not the epitome of trust_, he'd said. I hadn't realized how deep that belief was ingrained.

I checked Lucien's shield. No cracks or fissures for me to enter. Good. 

It was me who threw a punch first. Lucien avoided me easily, moving out of range. I turned to face him again. 

“No magic,” was all he grunted. 

So it was that kind of day. Very well.

I nodded. And attacked again. 

What followed were long minutes of interchanging blows. And if Lucien put a little bit more force behind his than necessary, I supposed I could let it pass. I would be bruised, but he would be as well. And at the end, his anger clouded his head. So when I glimpsed my opportunity to finish it, I did. 

My forearm was pressed against his neck, cutting off his airways until he tapped my arm, yielding the match. I checked his shield quickly before letting go. It was intact. I was surprised, glad that he wouldn't need my help for long. 

“You practiced.” 

“You told me to,” he said, glancing at me sideways. Then went back to ignoring me. 

Perfect.

I summoned two glasses, and filled them with water myself. I offered one to him. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore the thirst. Or the only source of clean water he had available, which happened to be me. 

“Thanks.” 

It was a beginning. 

“I think Ianthe is helping the twins,” I announced, drinking a healthy mouthful. 

Lucien looked at me at last, considering. “I'm not surprised. Why do you think so?” 

“Yesterday, she wanted to bring refreshment while we were going over the preparations of the Solstice ceremony, and then said she didn't want to eat when I told her I was already full. And who else would do it?” 

Lucien considered for a solid split second. “Makes sense.” 

For someone claiming he didn't believe a word that came out of my mouth, he accepted it rather quickly. 

“Lucien, I need you to find out.”

“How?” he said dryly. 

“I don't know, ask the cooks. You're charming when you want to be.” 

A snort. “High praise coming from you.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?” 

“Nothing. Forget it.” 

“No, go ahead. Tell me.” I crossed my arms. 

Lucien glared at me, but his mouth remained shut. I wanted to—to… Ugh. Why did he have to be so difficult?

“Get in the ring,” I grunted. 

I walked to the middle of the room. Lucien followed. And so we began again. Hit, avoid, block. Sand sprayed around us. If he wanted to have a go with me, then I would give it to him. The Mother knew I had things to work out, too. 

And it was unfair. This whole situation. I hated it. I hated that Lucien was affected by it, too. That _I_ was affected by him. He made his choice, he stayed, he put Tamlin above everyone else. The rejection hurt, but it was his choice. His gods-damned choice and there was nothing I could do. 

And it still _hurt_. 

And it _shouldn't_. Because they had been friends for centuries. What was that compared to the female who murdered his friend, who lied and blackmailed him and—

My teeth sang as a punch connected squarely with my jaw. Lucien widened his eye, dropping his stance and gripping my chin to inspect the damage. 

“I'm sorry,” he was quick to say. 

I could feel his magic already healing me. 

“It's nothing. We're sparring.” 

Again, I brushed my power on his shields and found them still there. Good. He was focused, at least. But I feared what would happen if he truly lost control of his emotions. I would suppose I wasn't going to stop shielding his mind anytime soon. Less of all with the twins still here. 

“I should have more control than that,” he said and took a step back. 

I raised a hand to my cheek and pressed. No pain. “So you _are_ angry,” I said. “What a surprise.”

Lucien shot me a glare. Maybe he felt bad about decking me in the face, but it could only buy me so much sympathy. I sighed.

“I'm sorry, for what is worth it.”

Lucien turned his back on me. It wasn't worth very much, it seemed. Neither my apology or my word.

“Are you planning on ignoring me forever?” I asked quietly.

“Seems like a good plan, should've sticked to it since the beginning.”

“You're being petty.”

“And you aren't?”

“I didn't mean it!” I flapped my arms. “Listen, I'm not a good person, I already know. But I'm not here to hurt you on purpose. Tamlin told me to shift the color of my eyes, and I—”

“And you listened?” he laughed. “Give me a good reason to believe you.” 

“I… ”

There was none. _I care about you_, I almost said. But that didn't matter. It didn't mean a thing. I couldn't prove it, and it didn't change my plans anyway. So I stayed quiet. 

“I'm sorry,” I repeated and left it at that.

Lucien sighed.

“I want to believe in you,” he admitted. “And I do, despite everything. But I shouldn't trust your word for shit.”

“And I shouldn't care about you. But I still do.” Lucien froze. “I wouldn't if Tamlin treated you right, at least. But you deserve better than that.”

“And you think you're better?”

“Only the Cauldron knows I'm not.”

I left even if there was time to keep on training. 

* * *

Despite what the twins said and how much they complained about being delayed from the trip to the wall, they certainly made the best of it. If Tamlin giving them the information about his troops so easily was any confirmation. 

Lucien and I shared constant, increasingly worried glances. More on his part than mine, but still. I shouldn't care about this court, but damn me to hell and back, I did. 

“It seems rather inconvenient to have your forces at the other end of your court,” Jurian jabs, sprawled back on his chair without a care in the world 

Tamlin shot him a deathly glare. We could agree in our impatience and dislike of him. For what it was worth. As much as he seemed to loathe his presence, Tamlin still answered his questions with no resistance whatsoever. 

Lucien seemed just as aggravated as I was. 

“What need do I have for them when your king has already an army so big?” 

At least he had the sense not to give them any numbers. 

Brannagh merely looked on, amusement lifting the corner of her mouth. “And what do you know about our armies, lord?” 

“Nothing at all, since your uncle seems rather fond of keeping his cards close to his chest.” He tilted his head to the side, a pointed look zeroed in on the princess. 

Brannagh leaned back on her chair too. “You have your secrets, we have ours.” 

Her eyes flickered briefly to me. Her smirk widened ever so lightly. I had been silent during the meeting, as I wasn't spoken to. But her glance had me staying still. 

“Speak directly, princess,” Tamlin demanded. 

Dagdan watched Tamlin carefully, cataloging his every move, as scarce as those were. Even Jurian, lazing about in his chair, took in the unfolding scene with a different glint to his eye. 

“You question us, High Lord, and we are your allies. But your pet, who surely has information on your enemy has remained unbothered.”

“_Feyre_,” I bit out. 

The princess turned her attention on me once more, but I didn't cower. She raised a brow at me. 

“My name is Feyre.” Jurian was smirking now. “I am no one's pet.” 

“Bold thing,” the human commander snorted. “I like it.” 

“Watch your mouth,” Tamlin snapped at him. Then he focused on me, but I didn't remove my stare from the princess. She grinned.

“I'm just saying, if you want to bring him down, then you should at least give up information.” 

“Like what?” 

“His armies, girl,” drawled Jurian. “Where are they? What are they?” 

I clenched my jaw. “I have little knowledge about them. As I was allowed into the Illyrian camps only once, and even then, I have no real understanding of the geography. Anything.” 

“What do you know of the Illyrian?” 

“They're… brutal.”

“Weaknesses?” 

“None that I know of.” 

“What about Rhysand's Inner Circle?” 

Tamlin perked up at that, even he seemed interested in that question. I inhaled deeply, worrying on my bottom lip. 

“They're monsters, the lot of them,” I lied, my voice trembling slightly. As if I couldn't stand the thought of my family. “I didn't spend a lot of time with them, except in front of others.”

“They say they were mighty protective of you on that meeting,” Dagdan remarked. 

A bitter laugh. “They can act, I'll give them that.” 

“Why did Rhysand hide them during Amarantha's reign?” 

“I do not know.” 

“Would you say he cares about them?” 

My face closed off and my eyes fell to my lap. I squirmed a little. “He cares for no one but himself,” I said quietly. 

The royals stared at me for a long while. But eventually they went back to extracting information out of Tamlin. And he let them.

Lucien glances told me what he wanted before his mouth could. 

_We need to talk. _

At least some good would come out of this. 

* * *

“Care for a walk, Lucien?” I asked him as soon as the infernal meeting was over. 

Tamlin's eyes flickered towards us at the words. I said nothing on it, and Lucien was so submerged inside his own head that he didn't notice it. He nodded. 

Our steps were swift, enough to get out there quickly but not to draw too much attention towards us. No one gave us a second thought any longer, it was a common occurrence that we were close together, even more often than Tamlin and I. A fact that Tamlin himself surely had noticed. 

“So,” I began once we were out of earshot. “_That_ happened.” 

Lucien gave me a tired look. Waited a second to reply. “We need to do something about the royals,” he said. 

I raised my brows. “We?” I asked. 

“You and I,” he clarified. They were the same words I said to him three days ago. 

“Now, why should I do anything?” 

“Because we can help each other out, don't you think?” 

That stopped me dead in my tracks. I was a little ahead of him, so I had to turn slightly to see his face. “Are you _bribing_ me into helping?” 

Lucien's expression was a grim thing. “I am offering you my help in exchange of yours.”

I didn't react for a moment. Staring at the chance I had been waiting for in the face, and deeply disliking how it came to be. I couldn't take it. 

“I'm managing fine on my own, I don't need help.” 

“_Feyre_,” he pleaded. “They will destroy this court.” 

I blew a breath. “This isn't something I can control. I can't protect this court when its High Lord offers it on a silver plate.” 

His features hardens. “That's a lie.” 

“Yeah? How so?” I demanded. 

“You have Tamlin bending over backwards to please all your whims, he would slit their throats if you asked him to,” Lucien hissed. 

“The only reason he does these things is because he thinks he can gain something from me,” I hissed right back at him. “And even that has its limits. That's how he works, you know that.”

Lucien was quiet for a second.

“The only reason you won't help is that this doesn't benefit your revenge plans.”

I sucked in a breath, lips parted in outrage. 

“Why?” I gritted out. I thought my teeth might snap at how tight I clenched my jaw. “Why is he the one making the mistakes and I am the one supposed to fix them?”

“Because I thought you might listen,” he said quietly, followed by a sour chuckle. “I was wrong.”

I wanted to reply something, anything. But I was left gaping after him. He was unfair. And I did listen, but I had no idea how to stop this. None at all. I couldn't afford to stray too far out of my plans.

I was measurably relieved to hear footsteps approaching us. I didn't tear my eyes from Lucien, and he didn't tear his reproaching gaze either. Not until Ianthe's bell-like voice demanded us to. 

“I hope I'm not interrupting,” she began. 

“I was just leaving,” Lucien muttered under his breath. 

He didn't bother with walking, simply winnowing away. I wanted to frown at the spot he had been standing on, but turned to Ianthe instead. My face was an unbreakable mask of nothing. 

“What do you need?” I said evenly. 

“I thought you might like to come supervise with me the final preparation for tomorrow,” Ianthe supplied pleasantly. 

I took a deep breath. 

“Of course.”

* * *

Lucien barged into my room at midnight.

It was a good thing Cerridwen had left a while ago. I still hadn't eaten. Lucien's food was still on my vanity. I turned to him and leaned on the windowsill, arms crossed.

“Weren't you the one grunting about knocking the door?” I drawled.

“I will help you,” he said. 

Much like earlier, I stayed silent. All emotion was kept off my face. Lucien's hard stare was as unreadable as mine. 

“May I know where this sudden change of heart came from?”

“I'll help you,” he repeated, “but you have to promise you will kill the twins before you go.” I raised my brows. “They're going to destroy this court. Tamlin is giving them too much information, too much freedom. And it's the people who will suffer.”

My heart was beating fast, but I—I couldn't do this. “I can't.” Lucien opened his mouth, but I shook my head, a raised hand drew him short. “I can't promise. I can't take them in a fight, and I need to leave quietly. I need to be in the Night Court by the time people notice I'm gone.” 

Lucien said nothing, for better or worse. His shoulders sagged and he turned his face away. 

Maybe it was pity what made me go fetch the food from the vanity. “Come. Eat with me.” 

He seemed rather put out at the request. But at least he took what I offered. I sat on the plush rug, legs crossed and food in front of me. I ate heartily, without sparing a glance at anything else. I was hungry, tired and stressed. My mind had little interest in anything else other than the food, and then sleeping. 

Lucien did sit across me, taking off the lid. He ate, too, though not as greedily as I did. We finished in silence. 

“You don't have to help me, you know?” I said quietly. 

“Then why do any of this?” He gestured at the food. 

“The goodness of my heart,” I said dryly. 

_Liar. Filthy, backstabbing liar. _

“You said you weren't good.”

“I still care.” 

“For who?” 

“Is it so hard to believe I would care for you?” 

I held Lucien stare for far longer than he did. He was quick to find something else to look at. “I don't know anything these days. I'm not sure if I want to, or if I should.” 

Lucien played with his utensils absentmindedly, not looking at them but not looking at me either. Many things seemed to be going through his mind. And I didn't like it how they pulled him away from reality. 

“About Ianthe,” he began. 

If I wasn't paying attention to him before, now I definitely was. I tried my best not to look too eager to hear whatever he would say next. 

“I'll keep an eye on her.” 

“Which one?” 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” 

I chuckled. 

“I hate her,” he said quietly. Way too quiet. It took away all laughter from me. 

“I will kill her if I have the chance,” I admitted. For my sisters, and for him, I would. A hundred times over. She deserved it. 

“I'm not against the idea. I wish there was something more instant, though.” I swallowed. At last, he looked up at me. But I didn't reciprocate the gesture. “What?”

“I... might have an idea.” Lucien narrowed his eyes. “But I'm not sure you are going to like it.”

My gut twisted, and I thought I might be sick. When I told Lucien that I didn't need any help, I meant it. But I also said it because—because letting him get involved like that was beyond cruel of me. Let him think I trusted him, only to turn around and stab him in the back.

I couldn't. And yet.

“I'm listening,” he said, carefully, like a rabbit hesitating before a snare. Only that he was already caught in it, whether he realized or not. 

And yet I told him what I would do, and when he offered to help, I allowed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think!
> 
> I'm @thestarwhowishes on tumblr, in case you want to come say hi!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer Solstice.
> 
> I loooooveeeee this chapter. I think it was one of the firsts I wrote. Shouldn't be too much of a mess, but that's subjective.

**Feyre**

Alis brushed my hair before sending me to bed. 

It was kind of pointless, I thought. It was going to get tangled while I slept anyway. But the familiar touches were so rare these days I couldn't help but indulge myself in them. Her fingers treaded the silk-like strands. Some weeks being coddled, dolled up would do that to my hair. 

“Can I make you a question, Alis?” I asked softly.

“You already did, girl,” she replied pleasantly. 

But the art of snark was one she had completely mastered. My eyes rose to her face in the mirror, a wry look in them. She knew how to hide the twist of her lips.

“Ask away,” she said. 

I swallowed, hard. “You know why I'm here.”

She didn't so much as falter. “That is not a question.”

I licked my dry lips. “Why not tell anyone?”

Her fingers didn't stumble once, though her features turned thoughtful. “It's not my business.”

“You live here, your nephews live here.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Would that stop you?”

“No. But I would make sure you're safe, somehow.”

Her lips twisted. “That's more than Tamlin can give us.”

Oh. _Oh_. 

“Amarantha took my sister from me,” she said quietly. “Left my nephews orphans. And I came here looking for safe haven. Tamlin gave that to me then. But what he is giving me now is a court—a world—ruled by a tyrant king who will not blink an eye at murdering my family. Who will not even remember their faces five seconds later. You're here to get revenge, on your sister's behalf. But also on yours.”

“I—”

“Don't even try deny it. You owe me more than that. You deserve it, too, you know? To have your revenge. But I also know you will make it better, somehow. So it's not going to be me who stops you. And in anything you might need, I will help you.”

I was robbed of speech. Her earnest words brought a lump to my throat that I swallowed down.

“Besides, I'm not staying here. I won't endanger my family like that.” 

“When are you leaving?” 

“Soon.”

I turned on my chair and gripped her hand. Alis allowed the touch, looking down at me with a sort of motherly tenderness that had me wanting to throw myself into her arms and sob endlessly.

“You have a place in my court, anytime you need it. For anything you want.” 

I wasn't good with heartfelt words, never been. I hoped she understood what I wanted to say. She patted my hand and gave me a small, sad smile.

“It is an honor having met you.” 

Tears sprung to my eyes. 

“I hope we meet again,” I said quietly. 

Her smile turned wry. “I hope not. Where you go, trouble often follows.”

* * *

I was both hungry and wanting to puke at the same time. I told Cerridwen not to come today. It would be a busier day than normal and the risk of her being caught was too great. 

Rhys, as was expected, was livid. 

_She _is_ a spy, it's what she's been trained for,_ he insisted. Again. _I assure you she's been sent to far more dangerous missions, and has come out unscathed. _

But I wasn't about to risk it. _I said no, Rhys. It's non-negotiable. I won't have her risking her life for nothing. _

_You are not nothing. _

_ I won't starve for one day. I'll be fine. Don't you trust me? _

_ You know I do. _

_ Then? _

Rhys had agreed, begrudgingly. But I still felt his restlessness on the other side of the bond, again clear and strong without the influence of the faebane. It saddened and infuriated me in equal measure. I knew he worried—far too much than he should sometimes—but I could handle myself just fine. Better than fine. 

I knew today was forsaken. This argument with Rhys had been the first, and most likely the easier part of it. A headache was pulsing at my temples. Ianthe and Tamlin made it worse. Hell, even Lucien made it worse. 

Especially him. 

His easiness around me made me want to get out of my own skin at what I was going to do. Not lowering my eyes at any point, keeping my chin high was maybe my best performance so far. Toying with Tamlin, continuously going behind his back was something almost natural. Earned. For him and me. 

But Lucien, Lucien who was going to play along with me. Who put his trust in me and I was going to so terribly betray… It made me feel wretched. 

I watched the ceremony, nodding and reciting prayers when it was expected of me. Smiling shyly at Tamlin each time his gaze fell to my lips, our eyes full of memories. I'd kissed him this day a year ago for the first time. I believed myself happy then, with him and his people. 

Part of me thought of could've been, if he hadn't let himself turn rotten from within, if he hadn't betrayed the entirety of Prythian for his sake alone. It made it seem silly now, to have believed myself lesser, undeserving of him. 

The royals were impatient. They made their hatred towards the holiday no secret to anyone. In that, I supposed, we could agree. Ianthe was cumbersome on good days. On a date like this one, when she was in her domain of lies and pretty facades, it was almost impossible to escape the inconvenience that was her. 

Yet, I made myself listen closely to her speech. Her jabs at my mate, one after the other. I wondered what the crowd behind us thought of his so called stain of evil when the twins were just right there. 

Discomfort was too light a word to use when it came to people's reaction to them. After Amarantha, it was clear Hybern wasn't welcome. But no one was brave enough to say it to their faces, or to Tamlin's. Not when they approached the altar, Jurian and Tamlin not long after. 

Lucien was stellar at keeping his face a bored mask until the end. But we shared a look when a wind moved the marker stone on the grass some feet away. He merely watched on as Ianthe arched her back and waited for something to happen. 

His surprise when the first day of the sun hit me instead of her was flawless. He sucked on a breath, taking a shocked step back when I started to shine with the seed of magic I inherited from Helion, as if he was afraid of burning with its power. 

Ianthe realized when the murmurs started. “Cursebreaker, Cauldron-blessed,” the people said. 

I was radiant and pure, clean of sins. 

But when Lucien, and then everyone else knelt for me, I had never felt so filthy in my life. 

* * *

**Lucien**

Ianthe was trembling with barely concealed anger. I thought she might have started foaming at the mouth if it wasn't because of the front she needed to uphold in front of the crowds. She tried to explain it, to say the sun altered its path to show how glad it was for Feyre's return home. 

Not laughing myself hoarse was easily the hardest thing I had to do in my life. I drank from my glass of rum every time my restrain sagged. Maybe I should find other thing to do instead, or risk drunkenness so early in the day. 

I was enjoying myself too much, though, so perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. Watching Ianthe from afar scramble for control, spin desperate lies and realizing no one cared was my own personal brand of drug, I was starting to believe. 

When the snake slithered close to where I gloated, I didn't even mind too much. She smiled pleasantly at me. 

“I hope you're enjoying yourself.” 

There was no kindness in the smirk I threw back at her. “Immensely so.” 

Her eyes flashed. 

“Care to explain what happened out there?” she asked sweetly. Her voice dropped to a dangerous tilt that I knew all too well. 

And I didn't care. Because for once, she was the one without control, without steady ground to stand. The knowledge brought me to an all-time high. I felt invincible. 

I stood tall, stepping away from the tree I had been leaning on. I stared down at her, like she was no more than a simple bug I could step on anytime I wanted. My smile widened. 

“The sun is _so_ glad to have Feyre back that it altered its path just to greet her,” I mocked. “You know, Rhysand's mate, the High Lord of the Night Court.”

She tensed, her shoulders going taut and her lips pressing into a fine line. Oh, she was pissed. I wondered what the viper would do next, where she would sink her venomous fangs after this. Probably me. It still would be worth it. 

Ianthe recovered quickly, plastering a sensuous grin on her mouth. I noticed her hand starting to move towards me when I glimpsed Feyre's golden-brown hair on the edges of my vision. 

“Lucien,” she called out, coming our way. 

Ianthe dropped her hand to the side, turning to her. Feyre's bland smile was lined with a hardness that was difficult to conceal. 

“Would you dance with me?” 

She held out a hand out to me. I took it without sparing Ianthe another look, walking around her like she was furniture. And went to dance. 

* * *

**Feyre**

Lucien was in a good mood. His whole face shone with it, even his rough demeanor was inviting. As if anyone could come up to him and share a laugh over anything. It made him stand out in a way. The females giving him constant glances were proof of that. He was just too far into his mirth to notice.

“I don't think I'll ever forget this day,” he told me so only I could hear.

I didn't think he would, either.

“You can almost hear her teeth starting to crack from how hard she's clenching them.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and grinned. “And you can smell the blood from where her nails pierced the palms of her hand,” I added.

Lucien took my free hand in his calloused one and threw his head back in a hearty laugh. “This deserves a toast.”

His breath smelled so much of rum that I said, “Another one?”

He gave me a conspirator grin. And winked. “As many as it takes, Feyre Cauldron-blessed.”

I laughed too.

I wished it was real. I wished it was this easy between us. I wished for so many things that I couldn't have.

Lucien led me through a happy dance, his mood was contagious, smiling was easy if I didn't think too hard. And so I didn't. We danced for a few songs, my feet were hurting. But I savored the moment. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience it again.

Tamlin interrupted us after our fourth song—or was it the fifth. The dancing and his presence alone sobered Lucien up. I hadn't truly realize how heavily I was leaning on him until he stepped away from me.

Tamlin eyed us, our earlier argument no doubt flashing in the back of his eyes. But he choose to stay quiet.

“May I have this dance with you?” he asked, a hand already held out for me. 

Lucien let go of me completely, bowing his head to him. I smiled at him before facing Tamlin and taking his hand. “Of course.” 

Lucien left us alone without another word. I didn't hide my sadness at watching him go, not as well as I could have. Tamlin's features strained with jealousy, but again, he remained quiet. I wondered how long that would last. 

People clapped and cheered at us every time he twirled and dipped me. It went like that for eternal songs. Smiling at him was a struggle, letting my fingers skim the outline of his shoulders in featherlight, suggestive touches when I longed to bury my claws in his flesh was, too. 

He tucked a loose hair behind my ear. It had come undone after all the dancing. I leaned into the contact, gazing into his eyes with a dreamt sigh. 

“Are you okay? About this morning, I mean.”

I pressed myself closer to him. “Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?” My eyes flickered above his shoulder. “It's Ianthe who doesn't seem to be. Is she mad?” 

He followed my line of sight. Then shrugged. “That's her problem.”

“Certainly,” I replied, eyes still on her. 

I'd been aware of her movements since the ceremony, watching her stew in her own sense of humiliation. I didn't so much as offer her an apology, didn't so much as pay her any heed if it wasn't completely necessary. The lack of power made her restless, and I was wanting to see what she would do next. 

It was only when she tried to corner Lucien that I had intervened. 

“You look beautiful,” Tamlin complimented. 

My answering smile was still shy, but it toed a very thin, flirtatious line. “Thank you. You look mighty handsome today, if I say so myself.” 

He grinned. “Do you?” 

“I do.”

My hand was playing absentmindedly with the hair at the nape of his neck. Tamlin's grin twisted into something hungry, ravenous. But he liked to believe that he was giving me space. That he wasn't pushing me. I knew where this was headed to, though. It was like coming here for the first time all over again. The liberty of doing and going where I wished to, the boundaries he was careful not to overstep. Letting me go to him first, and then not letting go of me afterwards. He'd let me give the first step, and wouldn't let me give other afterwards. 

We had three more dances full of touches and charged glances before he was called away to mingle with other lords and nobles. I felt like I could breathe again.

Tamlin apologized for the interruption, but I just waved him off, telling him it was okay. As guilty as he felt, though, he didn't take me with him. My presence here was somewhat of a novelty. Endless source of gossip. But if they didn't make a fuss because of his alliance with Hybern, they wouldn't because of me. 

Still, the minor lords were wary of me. And rightly so. I couldn't claim myself as Rhys' mate and not be cause of distrust. Whatever. Tamlin's only adviser was Ianthe, and she didn't stand a chance to make him see reason when it came to me. 

I wandered towards the tables full of food, brimming with poison. I hadn't had a bite of it and my stomach was protesting again. The better choice was to walk away. 

I found Lucien in the outskirts of the celebration. Half-hidden behind a tree, sitting against the trunk, nursing a bottle of rum. Just as he was about to take it to his mouth, I held out my hand between his mouth and the bottle. He glared up at me. 

“You know you can't,” I berated, a frown already on my face. 

“I'm not an idiot, Fey-ruh.” He scowled. The drag of his words were faked, but he was definitely getting there. “I bought this at the village.” 

“You're not supposed to drink on an empty stomach.” 

“I am not a child, either,” he added pointedly, batting my hand away and drank deeply. 

I cradled my hand against my chest and deepened my frown. Lucien paid me no mind as he turned to look ahead. I rolled my eyes and leaned on the tree, gazing down at him. “I thought you were in a good mood.”

“Oh but, Feyre, I've never been more joyful.” He looked up at me, raising the bottle in a toast. “And all is thanks to you, clever, mad female. So thank you, this is the most fun I've had in _ages_.” 

I couldn't—wouldn't let it show, how his words were like a brick to the face. All of his snark couldn't hide the truth behind the statement. Ever since I came here, I couldn't remember a time I'd seen him happy. Not once. 

“You're drunk,” I said quietly. “Come on, let's get you back.”

“No. It's nice here.” 

“Lucien.”

“I thought if anyone would appreciate the stars, it would've been you.”

“I don't see you staring at fires all day.” 

He huffed. It wasn't quite a laugh. “Then you're not watching closely enough.”

“You're a sad drunk. And loose-tongued at that. I wonder what secrets you'll tell me if I get you more booze.” 

A corner of his lips curled up. “You are very welcome to try.” 

I rolled my eyes again and leaned fully on the tree, my back pressed against the bark and my eyes up in the sky. I did appreciate them, treasured their company. But looking at them reminded me too much of home. 

“Is she like you?” 

“Mm? Who?” 

“Elain.” 

I hesitated before answering, “Not at all.”

“I don't get it,” he said quietly. “Why her? Why us? She doesn't seem like… I don't know. Compatible with me. It's like someone is trying to make us fit by force.”

“I don't know what to tell you.” 

“Did you ever feel like this?” 

“I—no. I guess I was lucky enough to get to know him before I knew of the bond.”

Lucien considered my reply, his gaze heavy on me until he went back to staring at the stars. “Maybe you're right, the mating bond is messing my common sense.”

I didn't reply, not for a long moment. Out of respect—and a little bit of fear. It was wretched of me, but the thread I was hanging on to was held precariously by Lucien's interest in seeing my sister. I watched closely, but his gaze was set on a faraway sky, impossible to get a read of. 

“I don't think you've ever told me I'm right—and meant it.”

“I think you're right most of the time,” he confessed. “And I don't know what to do with that.” 

I thought I couldn't string a sentence to save my life in that moment. Lucien got up and brushed off the dirt on his pants. 

“I'm leaving.”

“Don't drink yourself stupid,” I mumbled after him. 

My mouth felt full of cotton. Lucien chuckled as he winnowed away. I couldn't help but hear a sad tinge to it. It echoed in my bones. 

* * *

Two hours after midnight I lay on bed, staring at the ceiling and turning over, trashing in the sheets. I wanted out, wanted to tear myself apart and then drift somewhere else far away. 

My heart was beating fast, as if trying to break free of my ribcage. It lurched and twisted and ached. It ached so bad. Felt so real. I could hardly breathe. I didn't think I'd taken an easy breath of air in weeks. And it was about to get worse. So, so much worse. 

A shaky inhale. 

My throat closed up painfully. I thought I was going to choke. 

Release came in the form of tears, unruly and hot. Shameful. A testament to my own selfishness. There I was, crying for the sacrifices I was making, when I really sacrificed another. 

There was no telling what would happen after my little stunt, what the consequences would be. What Tamlin would do. And yet, I was following through. Because it had never been part of my plan for Tamlin to trust Lucien, but to cut the ties between them so severely, there would be no mending it up. Much like Lucien and mine. 

I sobbed through my bitten finger. I had to hope, to tell myself this was worth it. Because it sure didn't feel like it. 

Getting up, walking out of my room and crossing the hall was like padding in mud up to my chest. It was dirty, and low, there weren't enough words in any tongue to properly describe. 

I bit my lip, almost drawing blood, my shoulders trembling. My hand shook as I raised it to the door. Lucien answered after the second knock. 

His breath still had traces of alcohol in it, but his gaze was clear as his eyes, both russet and gold scanned my body for sign of injury. He was quick to snap back to my face when he saw what I wore, or lack thereof. 

“I heard you,” he said quietly, waiting for me to explain my tear-soaked face. 

There was true concern in those words, too. They almost made me backtrack, say to hell with it. But I stayed rooted to carpeted hall, gaping, trying to find the right thing to say. Until Lucien understood, understood that there was no such a thing, and had mercy on me. 

He opened the door further and let me in. 

I almost whimpered. It wasn't an act. 

Lucien had fallen asleep with his pants on. He fastened the upper button before he went to sit on the arm of a large chair in front of the unlit fire, and watched me pace on the carpet, before I stopped. My hands trembled when I wiped away the tears, only to have my eyes tear up again. 

“I'm sorry, I… this… I shouldn't…” 

“Breathe.”

“I can't.”

“What happened?” 

My chin quivered, but I made myself look up. “I dream of her,” I kind of lied. “I dream she is killing me. I dream she kills everyone else.” My chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm. I couldn't speak for a moment, as if my body refused to keep going with this. Lucien stayed quiet as I worked through it. “I dream I am like her,” I whispered. 

Lucien's features were set on a grave expression. “What was it tonight?” 

“I dreamt she made me kill Clare, and those faeries, and… and Tamlin. But then she grinned at me, and told me—” I hiccuped “—that it had been just me all alone. And then I was her.” 

Lucien stood, coming towards me. He stopped a respectable distance away. He didn't protest when I closed the distance and wrapped my arms around his torso. 

“I don't want to be like her,” I whimpered into his shoulder. “I don't want to become a monster.” 

Lucien slid a hand to my waist and with the other cradled my head, threading his fingers through it in soothing strokes. “You won't.”

It had already happened. And that only made me weep harder, until my magical snares alerted me of an approaching presence, and I had to stop. Stop now. Even if I didn't want to. 

This was my plan, and it was too late to go back now. That didn't spare me the regret, the absolute heart-wrecking realization that I had crossed a line. That I was doing something so foul and vile, it would never be undone. 

I wanted to apologize. And I thought I might have, hadn't Tamlin arrived exactly when I planned to. 

“What is going on.” 

Lucien and I let go of each other, too quickly to be seen as casual. Tamlin knew. Lucien knew. He had to. Had to have realized. It was done. 

“I had a nightmare,” I said carefully, glancing warily at the ending tips of his claws, and then going back to Tamlin's eyes. “I—was… we…” 

The stammering didn't help. I couldn't lie even if my life went by in it. Or so Tamlin believed. I twisted the hem of my nightgown between my fingers, taking a hesitant step forwards. 

“I had a nightmare,” I repeated lowly. 

Tamlin's hard stare was on Lucien. It had me bracing myself for the explosion, for the detonation. I would throw myself between them before he could hurt him, I realized. I would finally kill Tamlin if he hurt Lucien. 

I took Tamlin outside before it could get there, gripping his arm tightly enough to warn him not to cause an scene. I closed Lucien's the door behind me, something that I failed to do earlier. 

Once we stood alone in the hallway, I let my eyes dip to his claw-ending hands. Going back and forth there and his face. But if Tamlin cared for the faked fear, he didn't show. 

I backtracked into my room slowly, as if not to break the calm. I was careful not to turn my back on him. 

“Goodnight,” was all I said, and then closed my door quickly, as if I couldn't get it between us fast enough. 

I didn't go far. Waiting in silence the five minutes that it took Tamlin to finally leave. Only then I noticed how tightly coiled my magic was, reading to strike if he tried anything with Lucien. If he decided his jealousy could overweight centuries of friendship and undying loyalty.

I closed my eyes and exhaled. Then shed the nightgown for a pair of pants and a black shirt. I was closing the top button when Lucien appeared in my room.

“Did I ever tell you're one hell of an actress, Feyre Archeron?” he spat. His lips curled, showing me his teeth.

My knees were trembling under the weight of his despise—his hate. I didn't answer.

“But maybe I am the fool here. Yeah, I definitely am. A couple of tears and you have me wrapped around your little finger. What a clever little bitch. I should've known better than to trust Night Court filth.”

I didn't want to flinch. I wouldn't. 

“Are you even going to say something?” he hissed. 

“There is nothing for me to say. It's true. All of it.” 

“You disgust me.”

I disgusted myself, too. 

“You should leave.”

Lucien barked a laugh. “It can't get worse than it already is.”

“It can. Now go.”

Only then did he notice my attire. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you going to do?” he snarled.

“Remember when I said I would do nothing? I meant it.”

“You're lying.” 

“Perhaps. But that's none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is.”

“You will not tell him anything.” 

“Why not,” he demanded. “Give me a gods-damned reason for not saying the truth about you, like I should have from the start.” 

“He won't believe a word that comes out of your mouth. So I wouldn't bother even trying. Stay quiet, Lucien. It's better for everyone in the end.”

And just like that, I had taken his voice away. I remembered a conversation we had months months ago. _I'm thinking that no one would've believed it, or cared,_ he'd told me. It was again true. No one would listen. I was no better than Ianthe. 

Lucien barked another laugh. “Amarantha would've been proud knowing how far you've come.”

There was nothing to say. I had nothing to possibly say to him that would mean anything. The last look he gave me was one of unfathomable hate it had me pinned to the spot on my floor. 

I had no business feeling sorry for myself. _I deserve this, I deserve this and more._

I didn't think Amarantha would be proud of me, though. But I would find out someday when I met her in hell. Cauldron knew I had a place with my name there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, tell me what you think! 
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments and support.


	9. Chapter 9

**Lucien**

I had a headache. But after a full day without eating, and then drinking booze, it wasn't all that surprising. A scrawny boy had come fetch me not long after I woke up. One of the cook's son, too young to be a sentry and too old not to be working. 

“Good morning, Lord Lucien,” he greeted me, bowing his head in respect. 

“Good morning, Rey. What do you need?” 

I knew what he needed, but I wasn't anything but polite. He swallowed. “Lord Tamlin requires your presence in his study, sir.” 

Figured. I sent him on his way. The very last thing I needed was a little boy leading me like stock to the slaughterhouse. I braided my hair at the nape of my neck, finished dressing up. I wondered if that was what Feyre thought of me. She certainly acted like it. The little—

It was my fault. I should've known better with her. Rhysand ought to make her Lady of his court soon, that was a clever courtier he was sitting on. One of the best I encountered in the long centuries I moved through Prythian. And she would only get better with time. 

She left last night, I didn't care where she slithered off to. I shouldn't anyway. Much good it did to me paying attention to what she was up to. It only served me right for letting myself get involved with her schemes. It didn't matter anymore, I supposed. It was done, I was screwed and Feyre had won. 

I just hadn't realized she was playing against me, as well. 

* * *

Tamlin sat on the other side of his work table with no expression on his face. I hadn't bothered to knock, as I knew he wouldn't speak to me even to let me in. A tactic of his. 

It worked. It used to work for my father and it worked just as fine it did for him. I was careful of where I stood, where I put my arms and how I let my hands relax. Never let my fingers curl—that meant anger. And I had no right to be the angry one. 

He let me standing in front of him. Even if he was sitting, it felt like he looked down on me. Sort of like a bug he could crush under the sole of his shoe. I didn't think it was far from the truth. 

I wasn't the one to start talking. Defending myself would only point at my guilt. But staying quiet would damn me, too. I couldn't win. 

It was almost a relief when Tamlin spoke first. “Are you going to explain?” 

“It's not what you think it is.”

“What do I think, if you know me so well?” 

I braced myself for the sneered words, knowing they would come. It didn't make them hurt any less. Because that was the thing, I did know him. Better than he gave me credit for. Even if sometimes it felt like staring at a stranger. 

“It was like Feyre said, she had a nightmare and I—” 

I was fool enough to believe she needed soothing. That her nightmares held a candle to the nightmare she herself was. Her tears had felt so real. I supposed it felt nice that she came to me. That I was trusted. Needed. 

“And you?” 

“I was just calming her,” I finished. “You know how bad her nightmares are.” 

It was just another one of my endless string of mistakes. Tamlin curled his fingers slightly, his features going lupine. He was aware how bad Feyre's nightmare used to be, he'd slept through them night after night. She had made it clear, and it was still a sore spot for him, one that I was prodding like the moron I was. 

“What do you care?” 

I didn't. I shouldn't. “She is my friend.” 

“A friend,” he spat, throwing his head back and releasing a cutting laugh. When Tamlin's eyes set on me again, there was no laughter to be found. “Don't try to take me for a fool, I know the way you look at her.” 

I stifled a groan. I couldn't afford the embarrassment, the righteousness, nothing really. My best shot was to take it quietly, and yet I couldn't hold my tongue. 

“Her sister is my mate.”

Tamlin's green eyes shone with something I couldn't quite put my finger on, I only knew I wanted to shrink out of existence, to hide and hope for the best. 

“Yes, and it doesn't hurt that she looks so much like her, does it?” he said, his voice dropping to a quiet. It made the hair of my arms stand on ends. His rage I could handle, but it was the silence that I feared. 

For a moment I didn't speak. It made him impatient. But I recalled something Feyre had said, about shifting her eyes to brown. _Tamlin told me to_, she'd said. 

I shook my head. “You can't believe we are going behind your back. We are both mated,” I said breathlessly. 

Even the implicit mention of Rhysand riled him. His lip curled back from his teeth. I winced. I could only dig myself into a deeper grave. 

“I believe in how you can't stay away from her,” he snapped.

He… didn't mean that. He couldn't mean that. 

“You know better than anyone how I stayed away from her,” I said quietly. More than even Feyre herself, perhaps. 

I hadn't loved her, didn't let myself get that far. But I did wonder sometimes, even now. I was always drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain to anyone. The people I had slept with after Jesminda didn't hold a candle to her. Hell, I didn't think my own mate did. And I still walked away. For him. 

His eyes flashed again. “Would you have if it wasn't for the curse?” 

“Would you?” 

Tamlin didn't answer. It was good. I didn't think I would've liked the answer. Didn't think I was ready to unravel this whole mess we became, the hole that was him sucking everything I had and giving nothing back. 

At last, he let his body relax. I didn't believe any of it. There was still a warning in the way he looked at me. A hint of his claws at the tip of his fingers.

“I know it's hard for you having Feyre so close when she looks so much like Elain,” he conceded, “but remember who is in front of you.” 

_You are_, I wanted to say. _And I always remember._

“I think it'll be better if we had a little time to cool down. We need some space to sort out this mess, especially for you. You need some time away.” 

It took me a moment, but I wished it had taken me more to understand what he was really saying. I stiffened. Surely he didn't mean—he wasn't going to send me away. Not like this. Not because of _this_. 

Someone was pulling the rug from underneath my feet. And I was being kicked in the face over and over. I had made a home for myself for centuries, I was his friend, I was... I... 

_This was my home._

And he threw me out for a wolf wearing a sheep's hide. For someone he had known for a year.

I wasn't breathing right. The air was like oil going to my lungs. 

I hated that I was ready to beg, to kneel right in front of him and plead please don't kick me out. I hated Feyre. I hated Tamlin. And when he waved a dismissing hand my way, I hated that I only nodded and left. 

* * *

I found myself wandering closer to the barracks before I could stop it. It was an old habit, I guess. One that didn't seem to be going anywhere soon, even if the person I needed wasn't there anymore. Wouldn't be here again.

That's what made me stop just outside, asking myself once again why I was here. What possible reason I had to be here.

I guess I didn't have anywhere else to go.

I hadn't always been close to the sentries of the manor. I used to be with the guards in the Autumn Court, and what good it did to me. Tamlin was always more comfortable with them that I was. But then Amarantha cursed us, and as he left, I had to step up, to keep them willing to sacrifice themselves for us. Him.

Andras saw through it. How he resented me those first years. _We're not fools, we know what we need to do, there's no need to lick our boots_. That would've earned him a punishment, had I been crueler, had he been wrong. _The last thing we need is for you to condescend us as well. _

Looking back at it, I _had_ done that. But at least I tried. Tamlin had given up. Andras noticed it, helped me start seeing them as people instead of ammunition. It only made it hurt worse when they didn't come back. My friends, dying one by one, alone in the woods. And me wishing they come back safely, but also wishing they didn't. 

Andras' turns were always the worst. The agony of waiting for his return, and somehow hoping for his death. He was clever, as much of a fox as me, and he was strong. He wouldn't get himself killed if it wasn't for a chance at breaking the curse. 

I guess the Cauldron granted me my wish. I wished it hadn't. 

We would've been doomed. But at least I'd have a real friend with me. 

* * *

**Feyre**

I was fidgeting. With my fork, with the food, with the skirt of my dress. Keeping up a blank face was easy enough, not looking Lucien's way was another matter entirely. 

He was eating, drinking with a hunger I didn't believe he had. But surely he wasn't doing this to spite me, right? There were so many ways to do that. He wasn't foolish enough to hurt himself while at it. 

Ianthe walked in not too long later. Her hair shining, face fresh. I hated her a bit more for that. After last night, it didn't seem fair she looked so well-rested while I felt like falling face-first onto my breakfast. 

I wondered if I could be poisoned by contact as well as ingesting. 

“I am sorry to interrupt your meal, but there is a matter to discuss, High Lord,” she said, an urgent undertone to her voice. 

The rest perked up. I was too tired to show interest. Tamlin was far too into his brooding to be polite about it. What happened yesterday and the missing keys and the conversation he undoubtedly had with Lucien didn't do any favors to his mood. 

“What is it.”

I didn't miss the way Lucien inched away from him. Ianthe made a show of noticing we weren't alone. The snake. As if she wasn't already in league with the royals. Whatever power play was going on between them was not something I wanted to involve myself with. 

“Perhaps we should wait until after the meal. When you are alone,” she said. 

I rolled my eyes to my plate. “You already came here, say it and don't waste your time.” She gave me a warning look, as much as she dared with the others. Like a scowled child being told to shut up. I was enough of a brat to say sweetly, “If we can trust our allies in Hybern to go to war with us, then we can trust them to use discretion. Go ahead, Ianthe.” 

Tamlin looked at me for a second too long. But insulting his allies was not something he could afford. At last, he said to Ianthe, “Let's hear it.” 

She swallowed whatever retort she had prepared for me. “There is … My acolytes discovered that the land around my temple is … dying.”

Jurian's snort made her bristle. 

“Then tell the gardeners,” Brannagh mocked, returning to her own food. Dagdan snickered into his cup of tea.

“It is not a matter of gardening. It is a blight upon the land. Grass, root, bud—all of it, shriveled up and sickly. It reeks of the naga.”

“A blight,” I repeated dryly. Lucien and Tamlin sighed in tandem. I glanced at them before looking back at Ianthe. “Perhaps it _is_ a case for the groundskeepers.” 

She finally acknowledged my presence, her delicate hands curling into loose fists. 

“We’re heading out this afternoon to survey the wall,” I added, “but if the problem remains when we return in a few days, I’ll help you look into it.”

I gave her my most sympathetic smile, bordering on the condescending side. She gave me a long stare. Then she assessed me and Lucien, sitting next to each other. Her attention wasn't casual. 

“Will you join them, High Lord?” she asked Tamlin. 

My smile vanished with the snap of fingers. “He will not,” I replied sharply, before Tamlin could. 

My eyes found his, challenging. He didn't back down from it this time. “I think I just might.”

“I'm going to be fine,” I bit out. 

Jurian grinned out of the corner of my eyes. “Already doubting our intentions?” 

“Lucien and I will be fine,” I continued. 

I didn't dare breaking away from Tamlin's stare, didn't make my tone any less defensive for his sake—either his or Lucien's. Words were a weapon too, one I handled better than any blade. Or maybe not, if they cut me as well. I could feel Lucien's gaze on me—was it angry? Was it tired? I almost didn't want to know. 

“Perhaps you should go, my lord,” intervened Ianthe. 

“And why is that?” I hissed at her. 

She surveyed me carefully, her chin raising slightly. “One never knows when enemies will attack.” 

“You mean Rhysand.” I snorted bitterly. “Well, there's nothing much anyone can do if it comes to that. He owns me, does he not?” 

“Feyre, she didn't mean—” 

He tried to reach my hand, but I snatched it away. “I know exactly what she meant.”

Tamlin looked positively crestfallen. This was a huge set-back for me. To being angry and bitter and _scared_ again. It made me unpredictable, harder to control. Like a wounded animal. 

“I am—” Ianthe began. 

“_Enough_,” Tamlin cut her off with a snarl. 

She stiffened. Controlling and angry as Tamlin was, his tempers were not something that were usually directed at her. Putting her down in front of the others was just the cherry on top of the cake. 

I stood, dropping my napkin on my unfinished food. There wasn't any subtlety to be found in the movement. “I'm going to change,” I muttered, then stormed off. 

* * *

Truth to be told, the knock on the door startled me. I didn't expect anyone to come so soon for me after my little tantrum. There was still time until I had to go out to our trip to the wall. And Lucien wouldn't—

_Would_ he come look for me? 

My steps were hurried things towards the door. My chest constricting. As much as I wished it was Lucien on the other side, I dreaded it, too. But when I opened the door, it was Tamlin. 

I hid the disappointment, but I had no idea if he got to glimpse it. If I was making a good job of hiding it. 

“What is it?” I asked, perhaps a little bit too roughly. 

The muscles in his shoulders tightened. “Can we talk for a moment?” 

I eyed him for a moment. “It depends. Are you going to yell at me?” 

His lips thinned into a displeased line. He wasn't happy with me—but I wasn't happy with him either. 

“I just want to talk,” he said. Each deceptively calm word seem to nip at him from the inside. 

I gave him another long look before I opened the door further and let him inside. There was brief surprise on his face. It was the first time he set foot in my room since… before I left the first time, I realized. But we both knew he'd be lucky to touch me.

I went to sit on the vanity, picked up a comb and untangled my hair. Tamlin caught my gaze in the reflection before I focused on finishing my hair. I didn't let the stubborn line of my lips relax. 

“Why?” he asked in a soft tone. 

“Why what?” I didn't bother to make my words remotely pleasant. 

“Why did you call her out in front of the others?” 

So he had realized what she was doing before I put a stop to it. I rolled my eyes, aware that he was watching me. “I tried, you know? To trust her again. Or to not want to throttle her every time I see her. But I found that I can't do that.”

Tamlin was silent for once. I was actually astounded by that. He was silent and he was _listening_. Or at least pretending he did. I knew better than that. It was still interesting to see he could learn new tricks. 

“Maybe if she'd come to me, if she said she was upset…” I huffed. “But of course she won't do that. Because who will say what they're feeling when they could scheme instead, right? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of her vying for power and trying to turn us against each other.” 

Tamlin gave me a baffled look. 

“She's jealous,” I continued. “She's jealous because I'm close to Lucien, and now she's trying to drive us apart.”

Joke's on her. I did that on my own. 

“What is she even trying to do?” I scowled, my knuckles going white around the comb. I slammed it onto the vanity. Then braided my hair none too gently. “She knows. She _knows_ why this is important to me, and then she goes and suggest you go and play babysitter for me just to spite me because of something I had no control over.” 

“Don't you think it's too—” 

“No, I don't,” I snapped. A few strands of hair fell to my lap when I pulled too hard. “What about her promises to be better, to earn back our trust?”

There was a beat of silence. I let my shoulders drop, and my brows did. 

“What about yours?” I asked quietly, angling my face away from his reflection. 

“What?” 

“What did you do to him?” 

“Why is that it's always something I do?” 

“Because he's the one afraid of you! He looks sick whenever you even so much as raise your voice,” I seethed, twisting in my chair to glare at him. Tamlin scowled. “I don't have many friends, but I'm sure they're not supposed to fear you.”

“Again, Feyre, why do you care?”

“Why shouldn't I?” 

His lips thinned.

“I have a better question yet. Why won't you?” 

There were millions of cutting words I wished I could have said to him. And more. But I had to bite my tongue. 

“There are things I can't allow to happen,” he said tightly. His hand turned into a fist. “And as much Lucien is my friend, I can't let him—” 

“Let him what? Be a good friend to me?” I spat. 

“That's not what I—” 

“Then what is it?” 

“Let me finish,” he said sharply. I rose from the vanity and turned to stared at him fully. He was getting angry, but so was I. “Lucien has made mistakes, and he keeps on making them. I can't let them pass like nothing. I'm his High Lord.” 

Bullshit. Complete, utter bullshit. 

I shook my head. “Then maybe I'm not fit for life at court,” I muttered, not looking at him. 

Tamlin's face shone with panic. “Don't—don't say that,” he begged. 

“He said stuff like that, too,” I said softly. “So if High Lords are like this, then maybe I shouldn't—I shouldn't get involve with them.” 

When I dared lift my eyes at him, his face was horrified. “I didn't mean to—” 

“Just… just go,” I cut him off. “I need to change.” 

He seemed like he wanted to say something, but I was already picking up the folded clothes I would wear for the trip and lay them on the opposite side of the bed. 

Tamlin got up, and left on quiet feet. Only when the door clicked shut and his steps faded away did I grab a glass, half-empty bottle of lotion and smashed it against the wall. 

_Aren't you happy? Your schemes are paying off_, said Lucien's voice in my head. 

I was anything but. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Tell me what you think and thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Feyre**

The trip to the wall was an awkward affair from the start. 

Tamlin had seen us off, fussing over me like a mother hen, making sure I had all possible manners of supplies on me, including food that Alis had already packed. He insisted we took at least some sentries, but I refused. There was no time anyway, if we wanted to get there before nightfall. And come back tomorrow.

_ It could be dangerous_, he'd insisted. 

_We'll manage_, I insisted harder, flashing him a warning. 

He only spared a glance at Lucien, and two words.

“Be careful.”

My presence didn't seem enough of a deterrent for his jealousy. But my ensuing scowl and the way I stepped away from him elicited some guilt. Lucien kept his face blank, but I knew he despised my protectiveness of him, that he thought it was merely an act.

It wasn't. He wouldn't believe that though.

We winnowed away. Dagdan with his sister, Lucien with Jurian and me on my own. The tents and supplies made it bothersome, but we managed to get to the wall as night was beginning to fall. There was no time wasted in assembling camp. It was quiet and eerie in the presence of the royals. The only one unbothered seemed to be Jurian, but I supposed he had enough of his own insidious nature to fit right in.

Lucien didn't direct a word to me, unless they were indications as we erected our tent, even then, they were curt and to the point. 

Everyone was silent at dinner around the fire. Jurian made his snide remarks, and Lucien rose up to each one of them. But it was clear he wasn't up to just sharp words. He was too tense, too wound up, and he knew it. The wrong word from Jurian would send him into a rage. 

He was the first to retreat, the twins not too long after him, their sandwiches unfinished, barely nibbled on the edge of the bread. I didn't miss how the meat in them was perfectly untouched. Lucien hadn't eaten this time, neither had I. 

Jurian was the only one to inhale his whole meal, and once we were alone, he had asked me, a hateful smirk in his mouth, “Are you going to finish that?” 

I merely scoffed and stood as well. 

As much as I dreaded being in close quarters with Lucien, I still needed to sleep. 

Sleep, I told myself as I made the equally long and short trek to our shared tent. I was only going to sleep. Not talking involved. No apologies. Lucien and I would continue as we had been at first. He would stay quiet about me, I would make sure he had the chance to meet Elain eventually. The loss of our companionship—of him—I would survive it. I would endure missing him.

Lucien was laying on his side, gaze furiously focused on the canvas in front of him. He didn't remove it to look at me, even briefly. But I was acutely aware of him registering every single sound I made as I lay down as well, my back to his. I felt like an elephant inside a room full of glass.

The silence lasted for a couple seconds. 

“No provocative nightgown tonight?” he sneered.

I tensed.

“If I'm going to get kicked out of this court for good, then the least you can do is make it pleasant for me. Be a dear and throw the brown eyes in the mix as well. That way, my fantasies will be complete.”

“Lucien…” 

I was ready to beg for forgiveness when I caught the meaning of his words. Kicked out for good. It was his anxiety speaking. Tamlin wouldn't—

He would. 

What had he done? 

“Or not,” he went on. “What matters if it's you or Elain? What's the difference between you two anyway?” 

I didn't answer. 

“I don't get it,” he said softly. “After everything I've done to keep your back safe, you put a knife in mine. Is this what they teach you in the Night Court?” 

I felt him twisting slightly. His glare burned the back of my neck. Burn me to ashes already, I pleaded silently. It was better than trying to explain, to tell him how coldly I planned this all. 

“When I said—when I said we wouldn't be friends anymore, I didn't mean we would be enemies instead.” 

“You're not my enemy,” I whispered. 

“You act like I am.” 

“You are not my enemy,” I repeated. “Tamlin is. And you're on his side.” 

Lucien didn't speak for a moment. I curled on myself. I wished a hole would yawn open under me and swallow me. He chuckled darkly. I heard his bedroll rustle as he settled again. 

“So I deserve your punishment, is that it?” 

“No.” 

“Is it because I didn't choose you?” 

“_This isn't about you_,” I cried out, as loud as I dared. 

I sat up and glared at him in the dark. He was once more staring at the canvas, scowling deeply. “It sure as hell feels like it is.” 

My chin quivered. “What do you want me to tell you? That I never meant to hurt you? That this hurt me as well? That I've been wishing for you to choose me? That aside from—from what I needed, I hoped you'd realize that he cares more about fucking me than about all the things you've done for him, the centuries you've been his friend? That you'd realize he's a piece of shit and you'd finally walk away?”

I was out of breath, and my tongue felt numb with the words I so desperately needed him to believe. More than cleaving apart Tamlin's trust in Lucien and alienating him from the one person who would give him sound advice, I wanted Lucien to see that Tamlin didn't care nearly as much as he did. And then he—he what? He would come crawling to me after I threw him to the wolves? 

As if. 

Lucien sat, too. A snarl rippling across his features. I didn't flinch away, but the rage in his face made me want to burst into sobs. My eyes stung. 

“Don't you dare come preaching as if you give a shit about me. You came here and turned me into a traitor to my own court knowing damn well what that would bring me.”

“I'm sorry I had to put you in the middle, but don't expect me to hold back because of you.” 

He scoffed. “No one ever does.” 

And then he went back to his original position. His breathing was ragged, uneven. It caught and was released in sharp patterns. I stared at him for a moment, then turned away as tears spilled from my eyes. I lay down again and muted any sounds that tried to escape my lips. 

I fell asleep with tears in my eyes. 

* * *

My eyes were slightly swollen when I woke the next morning. Lucien had already left by the time I got out. One could guess he was avoiding me. But of course, where would he even go? He sat on the logs around around the burnt ones that had been our fire yesterday. He glanced at me briefly, then went back to whatever it was he was playing with between his hands. 

The twins were finishing strapping some weapons on themselves. I had done the same moments before in the tent, after I decided against a quick washing in the stream. I didn't want to be alone. As livid as Lucien was with me, we were the only people we had to trust in this woods. Trust not to put a knife in our backs, at least. The one I plunged into Lucien's was the metaphorical kind. 

I sat beside Lucien. A spot of red caught my eye as I did. Then I looked up at Lucien's profile. He did not return the gesture, staring carefully at the twins and chewing, before taking an apple to his mouth and biting it. 

I beheld the fruit sitting on the log like it might eat me instead of the other way around. 

We hadn't packed any, I recalled. Or had we? No, Lucien wouldn't eat the poisoned food so carelessly, again. He was pissed yesterday. Surely, he would've cooled down enough to think straight. 

What then? He'd gone to collect some apples and brought me one because he knew I hadn't had anything since the night before Solstice? It didn't seem plausible.

I raised my gaze to his face again, framed by the stubborn set of his brows, furrowed slightly as he chewed. Lucien didn't reciprocate the look, but I took the risk and bit the apple.

Alarms blared in my head. Maybe Alis had packed fruit for us. Maybe Lucien was aware of that. Maybe he was poisoning me on purpose. The sweet juice of the apple made it hard to consider. Gods, I was starving. 

If Lucien was poisoning me, I concluded it didn't matter. How much faebane could this apple have? We would go back to the manor and Cerridwen would bring me food again. At least Lucien would know he had his small dose of revenge. 

I hated I had to suspect of him like this. 

Like last night, Jurian sat in front of us, chewing a meat sandwich. The smell had my mouth watering. He cocked his head to the side, his insane eyes amused. I wondered if he realized what I had been doing, if he already told the twins. Whether they would do something about it. But Jurian was simply surveying the generous space separating Lucien and I, smirking like a cat. 

“I didn't think he would allow you to come,” he said. 

“Tamlin knows better than that,” I replied calmly, despite the tight words. 

Jurian grinned wider. “I didn't mean you.” 

Lucien clenched his jaw. “He wouldn't leave her alone with you vultures.” 

“He trust us so little? And he trusts you so much?” 

“_Enough_,” I gritted out. The drop of my tone had the twins glancing at us from the treeline. Jurian shrugged and got up. 

I sighed and looked down at the bitten apple in my hands. I was so tired. 

“Let's go,” said Lucien. 

He held the core of his apple between his hand. For a moment he stared at it with an unreadable look. Then he just shook his head and burned it, throwing the ashes on the burnt logs of the fire. 

I couldn't stop thinking about it for almost an hour, as we trekked the couple of miles to the wall. I was so distracted I didn't notice the Children of the Blessed until Jurian swore. 

* * *

**Lucien**

The three human children—by the Cauldron, _they were children_—stared at us with awe in their young, foolish eyes. They sank to their knees as if we were gods to worship. 

“Masters and Mistresses,” beseeched the girl in the middle. “You have found us on our journey.”

Brannagh and Dagdan's smiles were wide, terrifying things. But the humans didn't see it for what they were. 

It was, surprisingly enough, Jurian who snapped. “What are you doing here?” he seethed.

“We have come to dwell in the immortal lands; we have come as tribute,” explained the girl, peering up at the commander curiously. 

Jurian turned at me, rage in his eyes. “Is it true?” 

“We don't accept tributes. Least of all children,” I protested. 

He was angry. Something that I had to consider later. My attention was on the twins, who seized up the trio like they were going to pounce at any moment. 

“Why don’t you come through,” Brannagh cooed, “and we can… enjoy ourselves.”

She was glancing up and down the young man and the other girl. While her brother leered at the girl in the front. They had made their claims. 

Feyre pushed forwards. If she was a cat, her fur would've been standing on end. “Leave,” she ordered, her eyes were blazing. “You cross this wall and you'll die.” 

Brannagh glared at the back of her head. I didn't conceal how I let my hand fall to the hilt of the sword on my hip. Dagdan sent me a warning look, but I dismissed it in favor of seizing up his sister. 

If she hurt Feyre, I would have her head. More importantly, Tamlin would have mine. But that fate would be better than face Rhys. Luckily enough, I'd be dead by the time he came to raze this court to the ground. 

Still, I had the very foolish urge to get between the two. 

“We have come to live in peace,” insisted the young boy. 

Jurian glowered at him. It was a miracle in itself that Feyre herself wasn't doing the same. She'd told in passing how much she despised this people. I hadn't believed they were this blind. 

“There is no such thing here. There is only death for your kind,” she gritted put. She tried to cover them from the twins' hungry gazes, but as much as she tried it wasn't enough. They didn't want to be protected from any of it. Fools, all of them. 

I knew the Feyre struck when their faces went slack. Whatever she put in their minds, it made fear shine in their eyes. Maybe she only gave them common sense. 

“Go,” Feyre said quietly. 

Brannagh bared her teeth at her. But when she turned at the humans, she was all smiles. It was unsettling. “There is no death here. Only pleasure, if you are willing.”

But they'd seen the deathly intent on Feyre, and they were right to be terrified of it. Even a part of me was. They gave a trembling step back, then another. 

“We—perhaps have … made a mistake,” their leader said, retreating a step.

“Or perhaps this was fate,” Brannagh purred. 

“Come here,” Dagdan ordered.

His words were what prompted them to keep backing down, it was fuel to their fear. They ran. Brannagh tensed, stepping forwards, as if she was going to pursue the retreating kids. 

Feyre whirled on her feet, faster and more graceful than I thought she could be, and gripped the princess hard by her forearm. “_Do not_,” she said softly. 

No one missed the promise of violence in her voice. 

In the span of those two words, we watched her become someone else. Someone ruthless and powerful and angry. Holy gods. Her eyes were like blue fire that would wipo out the princess with half a thought. 

If the princess saw it, she didn't seem to care as she leaned into Feyre's space. “What other tricks did Rhysand teach his pretty mate?” she snarled. 

Feyre didn't react to the taunt, not like she should have. Instead, she leaned in as well. “Pursue them and you'll find out.”

Her voice sent a shiver through my spine, making me stand straight and at attention. The air cracked with her power. It felt like a living thing, like it surrounded us. Which was probably true. I had never stopped to consider just how powerful she was. 

Brannagh bared her teeth at Feyre again. 

“Stand down,” Feyre ordered in response. 

Brannagh snatched her arm from Feyre's hold with an angry cry. “For someone who isn't familiarized with the military, you sure sound like a soldier.” 

Feyre stared her down. 

“I will not repeat myself,” she said. “Are we going to have a problem, princess?” 

The clearing plunged into silence for a tense moment. Brannagh gave Feyre a low growl and a glare full of hatred, but she didn't answer. 

“I thought so,” Feyre said, the corner of her lips curling slightly. 

Brannagh had to move away to avoid collide with Feyre. The twins watched her while I watched them glare daggers at her back. When I glanced her way, I knew the princess had been mistaken. Feyre hadn't sounded like a soldier. 

But like a queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be my less favorite chapter. Tell me what you think in the comments!


	11. Chapter 11

**Lucien**

I remained wary of the twins' moves through the day, but they remained focused on whatever it was they were searching for in the hole in the wall, pretending neither Feyre and I were there. Maybe it was for the best. We couldn't afford an all-out brawl. 

Feyre watched them, too. After her spat with Brannagh, she had claimed a spot against the trunk of a tree and stayed there, vigilant and unmoving. But I was watching her as well, and the signs of fatigue that showed in her face. Against myself and my anger at her, I was worried. She shouldn't look so tired after using so little magic. 

Loud footsteps approaching pulled me out of my foolish, motherly worries. My attention went to Jurian, who settled next to Feyre and watched over the twins. 

There was a beat of silence. 

“Thank you,” he told her. 

I kept any surprise from my face. I thought I misheard him. But Feyre turned her face to him and scowled. “I didn't do it for you,” she hissed. 

Luckily, the twins would be too far to witness the exchange. I bet they would find the commander's words very interesting. Maybe as much as I did. He had been ready to tear my head off when he thought we received these tributes, and here he was thanking Feyre for saving those children's lives. And yet, he was working with Hybern. Suddenly, I didn't believe he was so insane not to know that once the wall came down, the humans were as good as dead. Children of the Blessed or not, children or adults. 

I leaned my head on the tree behind me and closed my eyes. There had been a time when these games had thrilled me, guessing at people's intentions and gambling on their loyalties. I had been good at it. But I was burning out like a candle that had been lit for too long. 

I stayed like that until I felt another's presence standing next to me. I stifled a groan as I whipped my head to Jurian. 

“What are you looking at her like that for?” I grunted. 

There was a thoughtful look on his face as he watched Feyre some feet away. It was unsettling. It made him seem human; the same way Feyre seemed human sometimes. 

“Jealous, fox boy?” 

Of course.

I rolled my eyes. “Go to hell.” 

“Been there.” 

I didn't dignify a response. Though pity shot through me. Maybe he hadn't been dead, but living as Amarantha favored jewelry for five hundred years was enough to make someone wish to be. Insane or not, it was not something I wished upon anyone. Not even him. 

“I guess I can see why everyone lusts after her,” he said after a while. “Girl has balls.” 

He wasn't wrong, not by a long shot. But I hated that I was included in that _everyone_. 

“You mean the ones you lack?” I shot back. 

He huffed an amused laugh. “People know what faeries are capable of. It's on them to stay on their side of the wall.”

“So you think they deserved to die?” 

“No, but you can't save people from themselves.”

I pointed at Feyre with my chin. “She did.” 

He grinned. “She has very convincing skills. You should all watch out.” 

My eyes slid to him, brows furrowing. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. Instead, Jurian chuckled to himself and walked away. I rolled my eye and continued surveying the twins. 

* * *

Noon came and went, and the royals were still working on the wall. I was getting tired, but that wasn't what caused me to worry. 

I hadn't been able to stop glancing at Feyre every minute or so. She lay her head against the tree she had claimed for herself. The afternoon sun glistened on her sweaty forehead. It wasn't that warm. But she still looked like she'd been cooking under the sun for days. 

She took a sharp intake of air. Her eyes are unfocused. I was next to her in three strides. I gripped her arm as she swayed, her shoulder digging in my chest. 

“Let's take a break,” I muttered. 

Another couple of seconds passed with Feyre still leaning on me. Then she pushed herself off. “I'm fine.” 

“You're not.” 

“Don't come guilt-tripping me when Tamlin punishes you for this,” she hissed. 

Surely enough, Jurian was glancing our way, brows raised. I gave him a warning glare. “It can't get worse.”

Her eyes slid up to me. “It can.” 

I didn't think so. And I reminded myself it was her fault, that I should leave her to rot. But she was sick, and we only had each other to watch our backs. If the royals tried something, if she got hurt, then I'd get hurt far worse. 

“Don't make me act as if I care.” 

“Than act like you don't,” she snapped, turning her face away again. 

Her brows were furrowed in a scowl. She didn't fool me, I saw the way she supported herself on the tree. Stubborn jerk. I scowled at her, and without giving her warning, I gripped her forearm and winnowed us away. 

I expected her to yell at me when we appeared back in the camp. But she swayed again. I steadied her with both hands on her arms, it was how I felt her skin break into a cold sweat. 

Feyre breathed heavily, her head falling forward, almost on my shoulder. She held to my arms, gripping tightly. I had the feeling that she was afraid to fall if she let go.

“What's wrong with you?” I asked her.

She groaned, still holding tight, before she said, “I need to sit down.”

“Okay.”

I pulled her towards one of the logs and helped her sit. Feyre let go at last, only to press the ball of her palms into her eyes. She remained like that for a long moment, groaning softly.

“I'm fine,” she mumbled. “Just dizzy.”

I froze. “You aren't pregnant, are you?”

That would be another set of worries entirely. 

Feyre raised her face at me, a baffled look in it. “What? No. Of course not. I just—I haven't eaten in two days. And sending my magic to the other side of the wall gave me a headache.” She rubbed her temple as if to emphasize.

Thank the Mother for the small mercies. 

“Wait a moment,” I told her before I retrieved my pack from our tent. 

Feyre glanced at me as I pulled an apple from it and offered it her. 

I had picked some from the wood before coming here. I had been pissed and stressed yesterday. More importantly, I had been hungry and wanted to spite her. But that was just stupid. She didn't care and I had to find another source of sustent now that Feyre… It was a worry for later. 

Feyre was still holding her head in her hands, between her knees. Still, I could glimpse the hesitation and wariness in her. I'd seen it this morning, too. 

“You think I might poison you.” 

It wasn't a question. 

“I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to.” 

“Believe me, I do,” I lied. “Eat. You need sugar. I'll be right back.” 

“Where you going?” she mumbled. 

“We need water.” 

Which translated to _you need it_, but neither of us said it outright. Some things were better left unsaid. Like why I was helping her after she betrayed me. 

* * *

**Feyre**

The ground was spinning.

I unmade my ponytail in the hopeless wish it would lessen the headache. I had kept it a bay for hours, but now that it was lashing at me, there wasn't a way to stop it. It was like a swarm of asps stung my brain. 

Lucien had left a moment ago. It felt like an eternity. The nausea wasn't unbearable, but it was persistent, and I had the awful feeling it was endless. That an invisible weight would be forever tied to my limbs, the lid of my eyes. 

I wanted to sleep so badly. But any sound kept me alert. If the royals and Jurian came back, they couldn't see me like this. Even if I had no idea how I could even begin to mask the weakness assaulting my body. One would think that after five years on the edge of starvation, I'd knew how to handle myself. The truth was that I allowed myself to forget what hunger was like. 

Lucien came back a couple moments later. His flask and mine to the brim with water. I realized then how parched I was. When he threw one at me, I caught with weakened hands before opening and drinking deeply from it.

Lucien sat in the log next to me, fishing another apple from his pack. I'd finished mine almost as soon as he gave it to me. 

“Eat some more. It'll help until we get back,” he told me. 

“Thank you,” I said quietly, picking another one. 

He didn't respond, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his blank face. It had a sad air to it, and I felt awful just thinking that it was my fault. And because 

“Why?” 

“Don't.” 

“Why do any of this?” I went on. 

“Stop.” 

“You shouldn't care.” 

“I do not.” 

It was a lie we both chose to ignore. 

“It'll be over soon,” I whispered. I could give him that at least. That I'd be gone, that he didn't have to see me ever again. 

A bitter laugh. “It's over for me. Not that you care.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I'm leaving.” 

“What do you mean you're leaving?”

“I'm better used elsewhere.” He shrugged. “And who knows. Maybe I'm better off steering clear of this shitshow altogether.”

His nonchalance didn't fool me. “Where?” 

No answer. 

“You don't know or you haven't been told?” 

He turned to me, his mouth set in a hard line. “Stop it.” 

“He's going to send you away.” 

“I said stop.” 

“Because he thinks we're fucking behind his back.” 

“Stop sounding surprised,” he hissed at me. “You set me up. You are manipulating him to—” 

“No,” I said softly. “I timed it for him to see me in your room. What he thinks and what he does after that is all him. I haven't entered his mind once.” 

Lucien went to stare ahead again. 

“I'm sorry, Lucien.”

“Your apologies won't fix it.” 

No, I knew they wouldn't. But I shouldn't be the one to mend things between them. 

“I can't fix things I didn't break.” 

He didn't move. I would've liked to know what was going through his head right now. But his face became unreadable. Lucien was sitting next to me, but he felt miles apart. Guilt gnawed at me from the inside, taking bits that larger and larger each time.

Lucien was right to be mad at me. I knew, I really did. It just didn't stop me from trying to make him see that—that I wanted what was best for him. It was so extremely entitled, to believe I knew best. So extremely similar of how I'd been treated in the past. But if I got him to leave the Spring Court, if I finally made him see that Tamlin would only harm him in the long run, then I'd think myself successful. Even if in order to do so, I ended up driving him away from me.

Still. Still I opened my mouth.

“Come with me,” I whispered.

He wiped his head to me. Baffled at first. But then... It was like he was a void. A void that wanted to destroy everything in his path, and I was in front of him.

His bitter laugh made want to wince. “You've lost your mind, Feyre, if you think I'd go anywhere with you after what you've done to me.”

I felt like he was shoving his hatred down my throat. It was choking me. “Let me make it better,” I begged.

“I don't want anything from you,” he spat. “The best thing you can do for me is leave me the hell alone.”

A stab to the heart would've hurt less. That would've killed me instantly rather than left me bleeding out. “I'm sorry.”

“I don't give a shit.”

“Don't lie to me!”

“Like you lied to me? Even after everything I did for you?”

He was breathing heavily. My brows scrunched even as my chin was starting to quiver with no way to stop it. “You helped me because you wanted to see Elain.” 

“Think whatever you want, Feyre.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Then why?” I shouted, voice straining. “Then why rub it in my face that I lost you because I'm a horrible person? I know. I know!” 

To my endless horror, I felt the pricking of tears in my eyes. My vision blurred and I was left trying to regain my breath. That only made me spill the tears. Lucien watched me, unmoved. I'd lie to him far too much for him to believe in a couple of tears. It didn't make it hurt any less. 

I dried my face with the sleeve of my shirt and got on my feet. The nausea whipped me for a second, my vision swimming. I thought I might pass out, but I pushed on even if I couldn't really focus on what was in front of me. 

Lucien didn't say another thing to me as I disappeared into the treeline. 

* * *

I came back before the others did. The sun was already hiding, the shadows casted by the trees deepened and the wind was getting brisk. I lit the fire myself and sat on the same log Lucien made me sit earlier, hugging myself. 

He wasn't there. But his bag still full of fruit was. I sank next to it and started eating. Pride and self-loathing were things I couldn't afford here, and as much as I hated myself, I couldn't go on another day getting so weak. 

I ate enough to quell the ravenous hunger gnawing at me. And then I stared at the fire. I watched it change from red to yellow and thought that maybe one day I should try to capture it. But I didn't think I had the will to lift a paintbrush. My limbs felt heavy. 

Someone was dragging me under, and this time I had no one to blame but myself. 

The only reason I kept emotions off my face was because I heard the distinct heavy footsteps that could only belong to a human. Jurian wasn't exactly loud, but he didn't really know how to muffle his sounds to Fae ears.

I vanished any emotion from my face so when he and the twins appeared, I simply looked bored. 

The twins didn't spare me a glance as they went straight into their tent. That was fine. I didn't feel like talking to any of them either. If I had to endure their presence another minute, I might as well snap.

Only Jurian remained with me.

That was just wonderful.

He sat across from me. The fire lighting his serious features. At least he was quiet.

Of course, it didn't last.

“Where's your friend?”

“I don't know. He needed a break.”

Jurian arched a brow, giving me an assessing once over. “He?”

I gave him a warning stare. He shrugged it off, but didn't continue. It seemed I wasn't the only tired one.

“How many make the journey here?” he asked quietly.

“None. They never came back, and I don't think they fared well while Amarantha ruled.”

He shook his head. “Fools, the lot of them.”

“Fooled,” I corrected him. “They were just children. They don't know better.”

“Who teaches them that bullshit, anyway? Who is stupid enough to believe faeries are to be trusted? We were slaves and whores, and they worship you.”

The irony on the situation wasn't lost on me. I cocked my head to the side. “Bold words from Hybern's lackey.”

“Nice insult from Tamlin's pet.”

“I'm not his pet,” I hissed.

“Rhysand's, then?” My scowl made him chuckle. “Ah, Feyre. You play these games so well, but you're still so young.”

“Do you think this is a game?”

He smiled knowingly at me. “We’re all playing, aren't we?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You are playing, I am trying to keep my people alive.”

“Your people,” he repeated in a hateful laugh. “And yet, you volunteered to take us here yourself. Do you think you can stop them? That you can save them all?”

“At least I didn't betray them.”

“For all your talk of loyalties, you still are with the male who gave them up. How does that add up?”

“That's between Tamlin and me. No one else.”

He huffed. “Aw, Feyre, don't be like that. You're entertaining when you tell more than you what you speak.” 

“You're more entertaining when you don't speak at all,” I snapped. 

Jurian chuckled. “Hybern is going to kill you all.” 

* * *

**Lucien**

Feyre was asleep when I went back to the camp, the fire snuffed out. I was tired, but at least our flasks had fresh water. I told myself I filled hers because it was inconvenient for me having her passing out. 

Consequences for me aside, and as angry as I was with her, I didn't wish harm upon her. I just—I just wanted her to be gone already. And if I wished her to go uninjured I would simply call myself a decent person. 

Cauldron knew I hadn't been decent in centuries. 

I lay beside Feyre. She had drifted off facing my side of the tent. The crest of her brow was etched in worry. Mother save me if she had a nightmare. Who knew what I might do next. 

But as the minutes passed, she didn't react. When an hour went by, her face relaxed altogether. 

I couldn't sleep. I was tired, but my mind was restless. The conversation with Tamlin repeated itself behind my closed eyelids. He wouldn't hesitate to send me away. And then—then what would I do? What would _he_ do? Tamlin didn't know the ins and out of courtiers, he didn't know how to deal with it. He needed me. 

He needed me. I was still useful. 

I dug the heel of my hands into my eyes. 

I would convince him to let me stay, I told myself. It seemed that I was getting better at lying. 

* * *

Sleep came for my carcass hours into the night, and still left me stranded between unconsciousness and the real world. I thought I was dreaming when I smelled the coppery tang of blood. I knew it was real when I woke fully and it didn't vanish like it did after bloody nightmares. 

I sat upright and scented the air to confirm it was indeed blood. I was too familiarized with it to mistake it for anything else. 

Fuck. 

I put a hand over Feyre's mouth. Her eyes widened immediately, her hand went to reach the dagger I knew she kept next to her. Even when she saw it was me, she curled her hand around the hilt. If only I would've been as wary of her as she was of me. But she relaxed when she smelled the scent, too. Relaxed and tensed all over again. 

I took my hand away. She didn't waste time to get into her clothes and neither did I. When she was done, she showed me how many weapons she had. Three daggers. One she strapped to her thigh, the others she hid in her boots. I only had two daggers and short sword. It wasn't much, but we would make do. 

I got out of the tent first, my entance casual enough but still ready to fight. Feyre followed closely. 

The stench was worse outside, it assaulted my senses. It was so overwhelming that I couldn't tell what it was at first. It snagged at my senses, at the edge of my memory. So familiar this scent, of rot and decay. The house used to smell of it all the time, when Feyre was human.

She realized before I did.

“You're too late,” Jurian told her as she stormed past me, towards the bushes. “They finished two hours ago.” 

I wanted to gag when Feyre uncovered the corpses. What was left of them. Their pristine, fine robes nothing but shreds. Their torn limbs scattered around like pieces of broken dolls. 

“They went through the wall,” I breathed. “To hunt them down.” 

Feyre didn't move, didn't do anything else than watch the mutilated bodies, the blood. I worried she was spiraling, that the sight would be too much for her. She stared and she stared. 

I was ready to drag her away when she turned her head to me. “Do you think it was for sport, or to send us a message?” 

Nothing. There was nothing good or kind or merciful in her flat words, in the hardness of her features. Her blue-gray eyes were like a storm. 

She unfastened her cloak and threw it over the remnants of the boy. A boy. I gritted my teeth and did the same with the girls. Children, all of them. It was sickening. 

“I think they aren’t accustomed to being denied. I’d call this an immortal temper tantrum.” 

Feyre's face darkened. 

“It's not your fault,” I added quickly. “They could've killed them on the other side, but they brought them here.”

“So I got under her skin,” Feyre mused, eyes hard on the blood in the grass. “I'm going to bury them.” 

She made to get on her knees, but I grabbed her by the forearm. “No. You won't clean their mess. It sends a message.”

Her icy glare was almost enough to make me let go. But Feyre was raging, was grieving and I could see the edge of recklessness in her. She glanced away, at the clearing. Took a step back from me. My hand fell away. 

She nodded, her mouth twisting. 

“Fine then. I'll send another sort of message.” 

This time, she moved out of reach before I could stop her again. She sent me a warning look over the shoulder. I recognized the tension in her muscles. She would snap. She would genuinely fight me if I interfered. What had those royals unleashed on themselves? 

Feyre started walking northeast, cutting through the camp. Jurian watched her go. He wasn't mad enough to utter a word to her. He wouldn't have fared better than those kids. I followed at a distance as she walked, and walked, pace brisk and determined. 

“There are caves in these areas, yes?” she asked. 

“Why?” 

She stopped at last, whirling to me. “Listen, I won't ask you to help, but if you're coming with me, you're going to answer my questions.”

“Help you with what exactly?”

She turned, continued walking. “I'm going to hunt something. Something far more hideous than Brannagh and Dagdan.” 

I swore. 

“You can't kill a Bogge.”

“I don't plan to.” 

I closed the distance between us and turned her by the shoulders. Feyre's face was an unyielding mask of cold. “Have you gone mad?” She didn't answer. “No one can hunt a Bogge.” 

Her lips curled in a smile that had my insides twisting. “I can.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked this chapter and I hope you like it, too. Thanks for the lovely comments and support!


	12. Chapter 12

**Feyre**

Their screams were ringing in my ears still. The cries. The blood. It was fresh at the forefront of my mind as we made our way back to the manor. I kept those thoughts off my face, though, putting up a satisfied smirk instead. 

I still could hear the Bogge's words. 

_So brave, the fairy-human thing. A diamond still rough around the edges. I will grind your bones to dust, Cursebreaker_, it had said. 

I ran away from it. Away from the things it showed me. Corpses. The blood I shed, from the twisted necks and pierced hearts. It chased me, laughing with a voice that belonged to many people I didn't want to hear. It was so clear I wanted to puke. But I still ran. I ran until I neared the stream where the royals were still gloating. And then I winnowed back to the camp half a mile away. 

Then another sort of screaming began. 

These, I enjoyed. 

Lucien held me up when my knees quaked. Pushed a flask of water to my mouth and made me drink. Jurian watched in the direction of the screams. 

“Aren't you going to help your friends?” I spat. 

He didn't look my way, only shrugged a shoulder. “If they don't survive it, neither will I.” 

The twins did survive it. 

Unfortunately. 

I wouldn't have minded having to tweak my plans because of their demise. But they were clever. And they made it back, with murder in their eyes.

I smiled from atop my horse. “Ready to go?” I crooned. 

Dagdan had to restrain his sister. I almost wished he hadn't. But that had been it. They didn't dare to fight, which was a damn shame. I would've liked to blow some steam before facing Tamlin. Because I knew what was waiting for me and Lucien. He did, too. His face was a grim thing as we approached the house. 

Brannagh and Dagdan went inside first, leaving Jurian, Lucien and I behind. The human snickered as he watched them go. “Good luck,” he drawled as he left as well. 

Lucien and I stood there for a long moment. He chuckled darkly. “Well, ain't it funny? It got worse. And it's not your fault for a change.”

“I did all of the hunting, though.” 

His laughter died down before it really began. “Sure thing.” 

By the time we dragged ourselves into the house, a servant was already coming to fetch us. Her paleness betrayed Tamlin's mood. I sent her on her way with soothing words and a reassuring if not shaky smile. 

I wasn't afraid of what might come next. Not in any real way. I knew I was stronger and smarter than him, but still. It wasn't just me who would deal with Tamlin's anger. 

Lucien hesitated at the door.

I thought of the twins, of Azriel who made them keep tabs on Amren, of Rhys who always told him not to and the shadowsinger who broke the rules. Who was never afraid of his High Lord. I wanted that for Lucien, to live without fearing a mistake would unleash someone's wrath on him. Rhys would've fucking applauded him for this. 

I lowered his mind shields. 

_You're stronger than him. _

He startled as he realized my voice was inside his head. At least he didn't seem angry anymore. I wished he was, anything was better than the terror I glimpsed on the surface of his mind. 

_ I highly doubt that. _

I hesitated before reaching out for his hand. He let me give it a reassuring squeeze. _You're stronger in the way that matters. _

His shoulders dropped. But I shook my head, raised my chin. Words weren't needed to convey the message. 

Tamlin was by the hearth, one hand braced over it, the other rubbing his eyes. He didn't turn around to greet us, simply growled, “Sit.” 

Lucien's movements were swift. Mine were more deliberate. I stared at Tamlin disapprovingly before taking a seat next to Lucien. He shook his head, bloodless lips betraying his panic. I wished I could explain to him that Tamlin wouldn't hurt him. And that if he tried, it would be the last thing he would do. 

“Who wants to talk first?” Tamlin demanded. 

“What else do you need to know?” I clipped, brows dipping. “You're ready to yell at us.”

Tamlin glared at me. I held it. “They're our allies,” he growled. 

“Butcherers and savages is what they are,” I countered. “They killed those children.” 

“And I should've been the one to deal with it instead of you two retaliate like children.” He glared at Lucien. “I expected better from you.” 

I clenched my jaw. “But not me?” 

“You have a personal connection to them. _He does not_.” He read the space between us. “Or do you?” 

Lucien stayed very still under his reproaching glare. I wanted to put myself between them. Instead, I just gripped the armrests. For a moment, I thought I was going to tear them apart. 

“All loss of innocent lives should be a personal connection to _you_! They're not like—like pets that passed away. Those were humans lives and should care half of what we do,” I spat, disgusts coating my voice. 

Tamlin startled. His hands curled into fists, but he didn't aim that rage at me. He threw a glare at Lucien. “Get out. I'll deal with you later.” 

I jumped to my feet. “Don't you fucking speak to him like that,” I shouted. 

“You have jeopardized this alliance with that stunt you two pulled—”

“Good. They can burn in hell for all I care!” 

Lucien flinched. 

“_You sent the Bogge after them!_” 

“They were children,” I said quietly, but not weakly. Still loud enough for the sentries outside to hear. “They were children and they tortured them. I couldn't find all of their limbs to bury. And yet we're the ones who have to apologize for any of it.”

His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze. I had no idea what he would do next, but it couldn't have a good outcome. For anyone involved. Maybe Lucien saw that, for he got up too. 

“Tam—Tamlin, Feyre gave the royals an order to stand down. They ignored it. If we let Hybern walk all over us, we stand to lose more than their—” 

“_Get out_,” he cut him off, never taking his eyes off me. 

Lucien blanched even more. He looked like he wanted to shrink into his own skin. I felt Tamlin's magic starting to flare and gave Lucien a fleeting glance. He swallowed hard and lowered his face. He slipped out, silent as a ghost. I watched him disappear behind the closed doors; my magic followed him out, to the feet of the stairs where he waited and listened. 

My hands shook. “You don't get to speak to me like that.”

“You don't know what's at risk.” 

“I know pretty damn well what's at risk,” I seethed, hands curling into a fist. “I just _saw_ what's at risk. And you. Don't. Care.” 

Tamlin's expression went dark. 

“It shouldn't really be surprising,” I muttered, knowing he would hear it. “You didn't care when you sold us out.” 

His claws gleamed in the morning sunlight. Long and sharp enough to cut me down to bits. 

“_You don't care_,” I repeated, words tight. “You don't care as long as your own neck is safe. Who gives a shit about the people, about the humans, right? Well, I do. You might be willing to kneel for Hybern, but I'm certainly not.” 

He exploded with a growl. The furniture went flying like leaves in autumn. Then again, so did I. Flying. For a slip second, I glimpsed what it would be like. The next one my spine crashed against the bookcase, the back of my head bouncing like whip. Splintered wood clawed my skin, little cuts peppered all over it. The worktable slammed into my stomach, all the air whooshing out of me with a pained gasp. 

I crumpled on the floor. Ribs aching with each gasping breath. For a moment, I couldn't get any air in. My sight blurred and I teared up. 

Everything hurt. 

Tamlin was over me in a second, his hand hovering without touching. I crawled away from him. My body was shaking. I told myself it was only an act. 

“Feyre, Feyre.” 

He chanted my name like it was a prayer for forgiveness of some kind. Like it mattered. He tried to touch me but I swatted his hand away with my own trembling one. 

Lucien barged in, then. I wanted to hide. A sudden wave of embarrassment hit me. He wasn't supposed to see me like this, with true fear pounding in my veins. 

_ You're stronger, you're stronger,_ I told myself. 

“What have you done?” he hissed. 

Tamlin turned his head, getting up to his feet slowly. His upper lip drawn back, teeth showing. “I told you to leave.” 

Lucien did not do such a thing. His eye furiously flickering between him and me. I avoided him, watching Tamlin instead. He had gone stone still. And as Lucien gave another step towards me, I knew he was going to snap. 

I propped my weight on my elbows, then my hands. Everything hurt so bad. I knew my ribs were bruised. The movement caught Tamlin's attention, but not enough to make him stop staring at Lucien like that. 

“Get away from her,” he said quietly. His face was a perfect mask of nothing.

“Give me another order, Lucien, and see what happens.”

“Stop,” I hissed. 

They seemed to remember I was still on the floor. Hurting and bleeding. At last, Tamlin turned to me. With his back to Lucien he let _some_ regret show. He kneeled again in front of me, but I only shot to my feet, clumsy and trembling. I made sure to never put my back to him, to never stop watching him even though I couldn't seem to get away fast enough. 

My legs wobbled and it was hard to breathe. I gripped the same bookcase I hit moments ago. Lucien was already walking towards me, worry written all over him. I didn't know what to make of it. Tamlin growled him a last warning. But Lucien didn't stop, didn't spare a glance his way. 

Tamlin attacked. And this time, I did, too. 

He halted abruptly, his claws outstretched for Lucien's throat. Lucien himself was braced for a fight that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. I willed Tamlin's body to relax. 

Every muscle of my body hurt, but I made myself stand straight. Tamlin whirled to me, shock and pent-up anger contorting his handsome face. 

I let go of his mind. “Do you want to know? Do you want to know what I learned in the Night Court?” I snarled softly. “Do it again, and I promise to show you.” 

The room grew quiet and still. I was still shaking, this reckless mix of anger and fear vibrating just underneath my skin. Tamlin said nothing. His eyes were intent on me. Maybe I didn't look all that intimidating, still bleeding and trembling. But my tone left no space for doubts. 

He had that look on his faces again, of horror and fear. Fear of me. I had never relished in it more. He should be. 

I pushed forwards, limping and wanting to whimper in pain. I let it show, the effort it took me to even cross the room. Let him see that he should be thanking his lucky stars it wasn't worse. His grave was already deep as it was. 

This time, Tamlin didn't utter a word as Lucien offered me his support. I didn't hesitate to throw my arm around his shoulders. Lucien held me by the waist as we made our slow way out. My ribs ached with each intake of air and spared no effort to hide it. 

The guards outside—Bron and Hart—stumbled forwards, offers of help in their horrified expressions. I held one hand up, silently asking them to stay back. 

Just climbing the stair was excruciating, but I pushed through the pain. Lucien was one wince away from offering carrying me. But the longer I made it, the more people saw me limping, injured to my room, was just more ammunition for me. 

* * *

**Lucien**

We made it at last, after what felt more like a journey than the trip to the wall was. Feyre heaved a sigh of relief when we got to her room. I was inclined to do the same. But I had to get her in, had to call a healer. 

I had to keep moving. 

I trembled as bad as she did. 

Feyre was careful and slow to sit. I let go of her to pile her pillows, so when she finally lay back, she was half-sitting. She let out a huff of air, followed by a wince. Holy gods. 

“You need a healer.”

She closed her eyes. “Leave it.” 

The last time I'd seen her so injured, she had been dead. Seeing her there, still bleeding from the cut in her cheek. The memory sent shivers down my back. 

“Let me—let me heal you,” I stammered. 

I clasped my hands to quell the trembling. I needed to get myself together. 

“No. Let them see.”

I barely heard her over the roar in my head. The roar Tamlin loosed right before he lunged for me, claws out, murder intent in his eyes. 

I should be dead. 

“You let it happen,” I whispered. “By all the gods.” 

Feyre tried to glare at me, to warn me. I realized she thought I was accusing her of something. _Accuse her of something_.

She just saved my life. 

“You—didn't stop it. You could've protected yourself.” 

My tongue was an useless thing. Too big inside my mouth mouth. But Feyre understood somehow, what I tried to say. She looked away, heaving another painful sigh. “If he wants to dig his grave deeper, I'm not going to be the one who stops him,” she muttered. Cracked a rueful smile at me. “I'm doing nothing.”

Nothing. 

She saved my life. 

“Lucien.” 

It was nothing, right? Meant nothing. To anyone. 

“_Lucien_.” 

I closed my eyes, dragged my hands across my face. Someone was hitting me in the head with a hammer. The room was coming in and out of focus, the details were blurring. 

Feyre gripped my arm. I turned around to her, who was sitting upright with an intent look in her eyes. “I want water,” she said. “Please, go get me a glass.”

I couldn't focus on her face. My vision was swimming. 

Her grip became like vice around my bicep. “Lucien. Get me water. Now.”

“Yeah. All right.”

I tried to swallow and found that my throat ached dully. But the bit of soreness was a very thin thread tying me to firm ground. It was like my feet weren't quite touching the floor, like my surroundings would dissolve into dust. 

The kitchen. I had to get water in the kitchen. 

So I went to do just that. 

* * *

**Feyre**

Maybe it wasn't the right choice, to send Lucien away with that dazed look on his face but I couldn't stop him now that he was out of the room. Didn't have the strength to, anymore. 

I heaved a sigh and sank onto the pillows again, wincing as I settled again. The adrenaline was leaving the body, left nothing but pain in its absence. 

I supposed it was a good time as any to let Rhys in. I felt his relentlessness just outside the shield of my mind. There wasn't a chance he wouldn't go mad over this. 

_You're hurt. _

His fairly calm words were a shock, if I was being honest. Despite the undercurrent of ire underneath it. 

_I'll be fine_, I replied. _Just sore._

A lie. And yet, I didn't allow the healing magic from Thesan to ease the pain or close the cuts or erase the bruises. 

_ I will kill him. _

I snorted. _Not if I kill him first._

Rhys was silent for a moment. _What did he do? _

I showed him all of it. The human kids, the Bogge and the confrontation in the study. Lucien's fear when he realized Tamlin would've killed him. It was hard to let the scene go. 

Rhys was speechless at first, the fiery rage subsiding to something calmer and colder. Simmering. _I hope you let him live to see everything crumbling around him. _

_ I couldn't agree more. _

_ He's a fool,_ he continued. _And he deserves to lose everything. _

_He does._

My thoughts went to Lucien again. Who hadn't done anything wrong, who had lost so much already and still was going to lose more. And I didn't know what to do to make it better. 

_You'll figure it out, darling. And Lucien will see. This isn't your fault. _

It was easy telling that to myself, if only for my own peace of mind. Hearing Rhys' voice in my head was different. It felt like sweeping my wrongdoings under the rug. I didn't deserve to have the guilt taken off my shoulders. 

Tears burned my eyes. 

_I fucked up. With him. He hates me. _

_ You can't know that. _

_ It's quite obvious, wouldn't you say?_

_ I, for one, wouldn't. Lucien is a smart boy, he's going to realize what sort of shit Tamlin is. _

_ Yeah_, I replied dryly. _And he'll come to my open arms because I've given him so many reasons to trust me. _

I felt Rhys sighing. _Maybe it's true. But, darling, from a logical standpoint, you're the lesser evil here. And would you look at that. That's what you thought of me, too. And things turned out fine at the end. _

Despite myself, my lips curled into a little smile. Rhys' satisfaction was almost palpable through the bond. Good gods, I missed him so much. He stroke the bond lovingly in response to my longing, it was like a soft caress to the cheek. 

_ Things will work out_, he said softly. I wanted to believe him so desperately. But there just too much doubts swirling in my head. 

_ I really hope so_. A beat of silent. _Rhys?_

_ Yes, darling? _

_ I love_ you.

Rhys stroke the bond again, in reassurance and support. I had no chance to reply when Lucien was already entering the room again.

I didn't need to tell him to ditch the kitchen water on the sink and refill it directly from the faucet. He moved around almost mechanically. One foot after the other, head bowed. I propped to my elbow and received the glass of water when he offered it to me, without saying anything. I wasn't really thirsty to being with, but I drank half of it in one go. Then gave it back to Lucien. 

“Have some,” I said quietly. 

It took Lucien a few seconds to process the request, and another one to lift the glass to his lips and down it all. He didn't look at me for a moment, that same… absence in his eye. But Lucien shook himself and surveyed me. 

“You're still bleeding.”

“I know.” I didn't dare touch the cut in my cheek. “I'll clean it in a second.”

Lucien went to the bathroom again before I could protest. He came back with a small box he retrieved from under the sink and set it on the bed next to me, pulling gauze from it. 

“You don't have to.”

“Let me,” he said. It almost sounded like begging. “Let me do something.”

“You don't have to,” I repeated. “You owe me nothing.” 

Lucien winced. “I know.” 

“Do you?” 

“_I know_.” 

I held him by wrist when his hand almost touched my cheek. “I don't believe you.”

He huffed a breathy laugh. “That's rich from you, Feyre.” 

“Yes, it is. But you're a good liar, too. And I don't believe you when you tell me you know you owe me nothing.”

“You saved my life,” he said lowly, intent on me. I was laying there and he was above me, but he felt impossibly vulnerable. 

“It was—”

“Nothing, yes, I get it.” 

He said with enough loathing I scowled at him. “Your life isn't nothing to me.”

He shrugged. “It doesn't mean anything much to anyone.”

“Don't say that!” 

“Honestly, who even cares?” 

“I do!” 

Lucien lifted his eye to mine, and let me know what he thought exactly of that. It made me press my lips into a firm line, but I didn't back down. 

He sighed. 

“Just let me. Let me do something.”

I looked away and angled my face so that he would have more space to work. First, he cleaned the blood staining half of my cheek. It honestly seemed worse than it really was. Or so I thought when he got started on the actual cut. 

“Hold on,” he told me as I hissed. “It's not deep. But it will sting badly if you don't get it healed.” 

Of course, I wouldn't. He knew that already. I would let it heal as if I was human, to remind everyone that if I still had been, I would be dead. Lucien would be dead, too, I realized with a start. It made me sick. But when I pursed my lips, blood spurred from the cut. 

“Relax,” Lucien instructed, cleaning my cheek again and pressing on the injury to staunch the bleeding. 

“Sorry.”

“So you keep saying.” 

I swallowed any witty comeback. Mostly because all of them involved some degree of sneering or scowling, or worse, crying. I scoffed instead, rolling my eyes. 

“You haven't been practicing with your shields,” I said after another beat of silence. 

“I've had more important matters to deal with.” 

“I can't protect your forever.” 

I hissed again as he put more pressure than necessary on my cheek. “You've made it clear,” was all he said. 

“I can apply the pressure myself, thanks,” I gritted out, replacing his finger for my own. 

Something like panic flared in his face as I moved my face away from him. It only made me feel marginally bad. But if he wanted to hurt me, then he'd have to wait until I could return the hit, not while I could barely move without groaning. 

Still, I looked at the anxious way he ripped his cuticles and sighed. “Could you—” I huffed. “Could you get the bath running, please?” 

He stared at me for a second. A second I thought he would refuse. _What am I? Your maid?_ I could almost hear him saying. But he nodded at last. And I was almost alone again.

The faucet turned on, and I let the sound drown me, take me under. I wanted to imagine myself floating in the pond in the woods where I first learned to swim. It was one of the few nice memories I had from then. After the initial fright of teaching myself, just being in the water had become one of my favorite things to do, if only to focus on something else than starving. 

Like I could just slip away in the calm feeling of the surface when I stayed calm enough. Like I was uncorporeal, like I couldn't have problems because I didn't have a body in the first place. 

I kind of wanted that. But pain was a very effective anchor that wouldn't let me go adrift if only for a while. 

Lucien was still in the bathroom. Bracing myself, I slid out of bed and made myself walk the close distance despite the desire to go lie in bed again. Immediately. I bargained with myself. Just a quick bath to get rid of the grime from the past days and get the smaller cuts on my neck and arms clean. 

I was tired, but the weariness faded into worry as I saw Lucien standing in the middle of the chamber, unmoving beyond the quick rise and fall of his shoulder. 

“Lucien?” 

He exhaled sharply, supporting his hands on his thighs. “I should be dead,” he said, breathlessly, lips parted. “I should be dead.” 

I wasted no time in going to him. I grabbed his face into my hands and made him look up at me. “Listen to me, you are right where you need to be, okay? Never say anything like that again. Less of all where I can hear it.”

To my horror, he teared up. It was like a punch to the gut. “It's worthless. P-Pointless. I should be dead. You should've let him kill me.”

“Don't say that.” My voice wavered. “You're not worthless. You're—you're… Lucien, please never say that again because it's not true.”

Before I really knew it, my arms were around him. And everything, everything hurt. But I held him tight, my face was buried in his chest. His chin dug into my skull uncomfortably, and I didn't care. I still held him up. 

“You're not worthless. You're the only worthy thing in this blasted court. Please, never think like that again,” I whispered. 

Slowly, so very slowly his arms surrounded me. Held as tight as I did. I felt the drops falling on my hair and I couldn't stop the flood in my eyes. 

Lucien chest shook as he took in a broken breath. “I'm so tired,” he whispered back. “I'm so tired, Feyre.” 

There wasn't anything much I could do, nothing else than hold him. 

“I know. I know. I'm sorry.” 

At least he let me hold him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda forgot days were, like, a thing. These covid thing hasn't been good to me and it shows. I'm sorry to say that I'm not sure I'll keep on posting regularly, next chapter is nowhere near done and writing is getting harder now. So, yeah.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think in the comments. All feedback is greatly appreciated.


	13. Chapter 13

**Feyre**

My neck hurt when I woke up.

The first thing I saw were Lucien's sprawled legs. The first thing I smelled was his very interesting scent of tears, my blood and our combined stench in general. I lifted my head from his shoulder, only to see his leaned on the wall tiles. His breathing was even, and he showed no sign of waking up. His face was tear-stained still, but at least he was calm. His body wasn't as tense as it been just moments, perhaps hours, prior. A look outside the window hinted at being some time around noon. 

I reached behind me, inside the tub that was still filled with water. It had gone lukewarm. The movement strained my muscles. The soreness was both better and worse now, it was somewhat mild, but still felt like I had been trampled under a herd of horses. I groaned under my breath as I got to my feet and walked over to the sink. 

With my hair tied in a bun, I picked up a rag and wetted it. Cleaned my neck and arms with it. Most of the smaller cuts had scabbed already. The bruises hurt more. 

I lifted my shirt to see my ribs. My bruised, blue and purple ribs from the worktable in Tamlin's studio slamming into me. I stifled a hiss. I didn't think it was this bad. 

“By the gods,” Lucien whispered. 

I whipped my head towards him. He was still sitting, but his eyes were on my stomach. I let my shirt fall again. “It's better than it looks.”

It wasn't. 

It was just as bad as it looked. He seemed like he wanted to call out the lie, but he also seemed to realize I would just brush it off anyway. “I'm surprised Rhysand hasn't showed up asking for our heads, that's all,” Lucien huffed. 

“He knows that I can handle myself.”

“Still. He seems… fussy when it comes to you.”

I snorted. “He is, actually. Annoying at times, if you ask me.” I frowned a little. “More like a lot but, you know, you didn't hear that from me.”

“My lips are sealed,” Lucien said dryly. 

I huffed. “Thanks for the silence, the Night Court is forever in your debt.”

I turned to lean on the sink's edge, facing him. Lucien's lip quirked slightly towards a smile, but it didn't quite get there. It was better than nothing. 

“I should get going,” he muttered. Lucien got to his feet far more easily than I did. But his steps were heavier than mine. “Get a bath, you stink.”

I didn't fall for the bait. Instead, I gripped his arm to get his attention, and let him go when he turned his face to me. “Are you going to be fine?”

There wasn't a reply for a long moment, his russet eye avoided me. “Yeah. I should… never mind. I'll be fine.”

I didn't believe him. Didn't think he believed himself either, but I had no other choice than to accept it. I took a step back and nodded. He didn't immediately left.

“We’re not friends,” he told me, staring hard at somewhere on the sink behind me. “I don't trust you, but I owe you my life.”

“I told you—”

“You and I are on different sides, we're supposed to be enemies. You had no reason to protect me. And even before today, I still owe you more than I can ever repay.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I won't forget it, Feyre. Thank you.”

I couldn't conjure a word to say. How did I start explaining that it was nothing for me? That it was him I cared about, and not which side of this war he was standing on.

Lucien walked out, footsteps almost dragging and shoulders curved inward.

I breathed deeply, threw my hair back even if it was tied. And then let it loose. My dirty traveling clothes ended up on the corner of the bathroom as I stepped into the tub. I didn't bother to heat it again.

Things weren't supposed to get so messed up. Not with Lucien and me. I could deal with hate and anger, but gratitude? That I couldn't accept. Or understand.

* * *

Alis had come to change the slightly blood-stained sheets and pillowcases by the time I walked out the bathroom. Her eyes flickered to me while she tucked in the corners of the clean sheets. Her stern look kept me in place.

“Lie down,” she ordered.

I shouldn't take orders, but I didn't recall ever seeing her so serious. “Let me get dressed at least.”

“No. Come here, I need to see.”

My grip on my robe tightened. “I'm fine, Alis.”

“Don't make me get you here myself.”

“Alis...”

“Now, girl,” she warned a last time, with enough unyielding will that I knew she somehow would get to examine me whether I wanted it or not.

I hesitated every step of the way, but I quickly found myself in front of her. “Is this necessary?”

“Take it off.”

It wasn't that she hadn't seen me naked before. Hell, most of Prythian had at that point. But letting her see my bruised skin was another sort of humiliation. Still, I undid the knot at my waist and shouldered off the dressing robe, leaving it on the bed next to me.

Alis' eyes went directly to my stomach. It would have been less shameful if she stared at my breasts instead. I recoiled from her gaze, going to cover myself with my arms only for Alis to grab my wrist and stop the motion. 

“Turn around,” she said quietly.

I swallowed hard, glancing up in a silent prayer for this to end already. My eyes stung a little, but I didn't let myself dwell on the sensation.

Alis was silent for a moment. The next thing I felt were her rough fingers on the middle of my back, followed closely by pain. I hissed, moving away, which in turn prompted my body to flare with more pain. 

“Stay still.” 

“It hurts,” I hissed. 

The admission made my throat close up instantly. A soft gasp left my mouth before I could comprehend what was happening. It felt like being startled from sleep, only that I was wide awake. And I had no idea where this was coming from. 

Alis put her hand on my shoulder, gave me a comforting squeeze. “It's okay to be afraid, you know?” 

I half turned to her. “What?” I said under my breath. “I'm not afraid. It's just… It doesn't matter.”

“We all are aware of the history that lies between you and him. It doesn't make you any less brave to admit it still lingers.”

“It—_It doesn't_.” 

“Then why are you going to cry?” she said softly, her hand stroking my cheek. “Feyre, it's okay.”

“No, I… It's not _that_. I just—” 

I didn't know what to feel. Had no idea how to name the churning feeling in my gut, twisting my stomach. 

Alis hand fell away. She sighed. “Turn around so I can put some salve. It'll help with the pain.”

I was caught in between the shame of letting her touch the bruises and the need to hide my face from her. My eyes flickered to her before I turned again, holding myself. I let my head hang low, bracing for the painful touch and focusing on breathing calmly despite the throbbing ache in my chest.

“Try not to move too much,” Alis warned before she started rubbing my back.

I tensed, which only served me for it feel like some mighty god was crushing my ribs between his hands. But it hurt. Until it didn't anymore. I let a sigh of relief as the numbing sensation spread across my back.

“Better, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, biting back a groan.

“Now, lie down,” she told me.

This time, I went without much more insistence. I sat carefully, then leaned back slowly, keeping my eyes away from my own body. Just the glimpse of purple skin made my heart lurch in my sore ribcage.

Alis sat next to me, dabbing her fingers with the salve. She was silent as she repeated the same procedure. This was twice as bad. I winced and squirmed, what made me wince more. “Stay still.”

I swallowed, pressing my eyes shut. Alis was quick and merciless, kneading my ribs with deft fingers. I cried out as she hit a particularly painful spot.

“There,” she said at last. I heaved another sigh of relief, feeling the glorious numbness on my skin. “I don't think your ribs are broken, but you should rest today.”

“I didn't know you were a healer.”

“I have nephews,” she remarked. “I have to be. Now, let me see that cut.”

I tried to cover myself with my arms before I turned my cheek so she could survey it. Alis prodded at the skin around it. This time, I didn't flinch, expecting the pain. 

“I'm putting a little salve on it so it heals quickly,” she warned.

I nodded.

“My sister had a lover before she married the kid's father. He hit her once and once was enough for me to convince her to walk away. But a century later, she still flinched when she saw him again.” 

A beat of silence. Alis applied the salve, this one stung endlessly. It was a welcome distraction from Alis' words. But of course she decided to continue. 

“These sort of things leave a mark. You're not less of a person because of it.”

“Bruises fade,” I answered forcefully. 

“And bones heal. They were still broken at some point,” she pointed out sharply. “Hiding your weaknesses is a weakness in itself, and someone like you can't afford that.”

I looked away, words vanishing from my mind. She was right, and I wasn't ready to face that. I wasn't ready to acknowledge the thing living in my heart. 

“Are you done? I want to sleep for a while.”

Her disappointment was a physical force, but Alis vacated the bed and screw the lid on the salve tin again. “Rest,” she said tersely and left me alone at last. 

I didn't cry. I wouldn't cry, but the Mother knew I wanted to. For some stupid reason. 

* * *

When you were hungry, sleep was hard to come by. But it was the only way to escape the constant cramps that came with it. I never had the choice to do that. I had to hunt, to try and get food to our table. But it was more often than not that I found my sisters and my father asleep in our cot. There wasn't anything else much to do. And so, that's what I did.

It was fitfull, and full of images that I couldn't quite grasp. But by the time I woke up again, I was relieved that midnight was closer. Cerridwen would come today. A small relief.

I got dressed slowly, picking the clothes without energy or care for it. The bruises didn't hurt as much, but my skin still was obscured by the purple and blue marks.

My hair was tangled from the trashing I must have done during my not-quite-nightmare, so I made it my mission to get it to behave again. Which was no easy task. Maybe I should cut it off, I was musing when a knock sounded on the door.

I frowned at it, but still called out a, “Come in.”

I was finishing braiding my hair again when Tamlin walked in. He gave a whole one step into the room and not one more. The door clicked close behind him. And then it was deathly silent.

He was staring at me, at the bruised, cut arms. The injury in my cheek. I didn't plan to hide any of it, not in my room, and certainly not outside. Even if I felt nauseous every time I caught a glimpse of it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked forcefully, brows dipping down.

I got up from the chair, turning so we were facing each other. Like hell I would put my back to him. He seemed to realize it too, but he didn't comment on it. A proud asshole through and through.

“I want to talk.”

“I thought your actions were clear enough,” I clipped. “There's nothing to talk about.”

“Feyre, please, I just want to—”

“I couldn't care less what you want,” I growled. “Get out of my room. I don't want you here.”

“Please,” he insisted, but the desperation in his voice didn't give me the rush I expected. “Let me apologize.”

“I'm sorry, but this time words won't cut it. You crossed the line today, Tamlin.”

He looked stricken, outrage and regret battling in his face. “I know, believe me, I do. I've been going out of my mind, thinking about what would've happened if I had... If I...”

“If you had killed me,” I snorted. “Yeah, how hard would that be on _you_, right? Because it's always about what you feel and what you want, isn't it?”

“No.”

“_Isn't it_?”

“No!” he shouted.

“There you go,” I remarked with a laugh. My heart was pounding in my ears. “You're old, Tamlin. Over five hundred years old. Get a fucking grip on yourself and spare me the bullshit. I don't care. I just—” I laughed again, my ribs ached. “I don't care anymore.”

I pressed the heel of my hand on my forehead and gave a shake of my head, making a sound between a groan and a laugh.

“Just leave. It's clear now you won't ever change. I'm done with that bullshit.”

Tamlin had the guts to look crestfallen. He dug his own grave and then he was the one to cry for himself. I found it terribly difficult to garner even a drop of sympathy. I didn't owe him a thing, anyway. 

“Get out,” I said quietly. “Don't even talk to me. Just go.” 

An old beast doesn't learn new tricks, apparently. Because instead of doing as I told him, he approached me. I stumbled three steps back, breath stuck on my throat. 

“_Don't_,” I hissed. I wouldn't have been surprised if I suddenly grew fur and claws and ears, it would compliment the cornered cat show I had going on. “Stay back.” 

Maybe my fear was what woke him up at last. For someone who claimed was a protector, he didn't make a very good job out of it. 

“Out. Get out! Now!” 

I hadn't screamed at him in so long that he must have forgotten just how quick I was to turn on him. Alarming bells rang in my head, told me how far out of character I had strayed. I couldn't bring myself to care. Let him realize I was his worst nightmare, and let him realize I wouldn't hesitate this time to give him what he deserved. To make him as scared as Lucien had been earlier. As I had been. 

Perhaps still was. 

“Feyre, please. Forgive me,” Tamlin begged. 

“No.”

It was such a simple, short word. And yet it made him stop. I thought it had more to do with the coldness in my voice than the word itself. 

“Let's not have a repeat,” I said. “You're not going to win.”

Which was all sorts of funny. I knew—_I knew_—he had no chance to hurt me anymore. But I was still so petrified by the thought of it, the memories of it, that I was the one to take another step back. 

“You meant it, didn't you?” 

“Yes,” I whispered. “I did.” 

He looked away, jaw set. I watched carefully. But he only said, “I'm sorry.” 

And he left. His steps slow enough I knew he wanted me to stop him. I didn't. If I had… I didn't know what I would do. The door clicked shut after him, his heavy steps fading. I was trying to control my breathing, pressing my mouth so my lower lip didn't wobble. “I'm sorry”? What was he sorry for? Was he sorry that he hurt me, or that I got mad about it? The thought of being remorseful about Lucien even crossed his mind?

Somehow, I didn't believe it to be the case.

I sat on the edge of the bed. My hands gripped a fistful of sheets and I stifled a growl. A weight settled on my chest, oppressing and hot. But I didn't cry. I wouldn't cry. Not for him.

He wouldn't take anything from me anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine is kicking my ass, but I managed this short chapter. Still can't establish an update schedule, but hopefully I'll see you soon. Enjoy!


	14. Chapter 14

**Feyre**

I didn't have dinner with the others that night, out of anger and stubbornness. Truth to be told, I felt like shit and I didn't want to let the royals see me so bartered. Besides, I wouldn't eat their food anyway so it wasn't like I was missing a lot. 

My stomach growled its hunger all the way to midnight, until Cerridwen arrived, food in hand. “Thank the forgotten gods.” I almost cried at the delicious smell. My abdomen cramped at the sight and the thought of eating all of it. “You're my savior, Cerridwen.”

The wraith smiled. “I could make you these delicious meals all day long if you went back with me,” she said with a knowing gleam to her eyes. 

“Rhys put you up to this, didn't he?” 

“He and Mor, actually.” She raised her hands in innocence. “I'm just doing my job.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Well, tell them, I'm doing mine.” 

Cerridwen smiled again, nodding once. It seemed too close to a bow for my liking. She got serious again a second later, her gaze falling on the cut on my face. “I'm probably overstepping here,” she started, her tone unwavering, “but please take care of yourself. Losing you now… it would be devastating, to all of us. Come back home, Feyre. In one piece, please.”

A smile found its way to my lips despite myself. “Have a little faith in me, Cerridwen.”

She shook her head, a soft smile on her face. “All right.”

“See you later.”

She nodded and turned into shadows. She was gone the next moment. I wished I could ask her to stay a little bit longer, but I wasn't so selfish to ask that of her, wouldn't put her in danger of discovery like that, trained spy or not. And at the same time, I was glad she was gone, that she couldn't see my face, or see my still stiff movements.

Another thing.

I had noticed the two meals since Cerridwen arrived. Ignored them, too. But alone now, there wasn't much to do but stare at them. I could probably eat both of them, Cauldron knew I was hungry enough. Only that I knew the guilt wouldn't let me go beyond the first bite, if that.

I didn't want to eat the other, though. But sending it to Lucien made my heart squeeze. Maybe he would cave in and admit he needed to sustain himself somehow—hunger did a lot things to a person, to their pride. Or maybe he would spit in my face, like he should. 

I took the coward's path, and wrote a note on top of it. _We don't have to be friends, but I owe you too. If you want to stay mad at me, then you have to stay alive as well. _

Then I winnowed the meal to his room.

I waited in silence, devouring my own food and keeping alert in case the tray would come back. But it didn't. For some reason, it felt like progress.

* * *

**Lucien**

I had the feeling that if I raised my knife in the air, I would tear the tension in the table like fabric. The dining room felt tight, compressive. Like it was squeezing any resemblance of peace, or even comfort, out of us all. It had been a while since we had a meal this, this… I was at a loss of words. A lot was happening in the moment—the thick air breathed in between the things no one said, Feyre's constant glares directed at Tamlin, his reproaching stares directed at me. 

So rich coming from him. 

_I didn't make you do anything_, I wanted to tell him. Yell at him, for once. _There's no one to blame but yourself. _

Those angry thoughts were dangerous, so I fought them back and away from the forefront of my mind, and my face. My posture. But—but the cut in Feyre's cheek hadn't healed, and I was gripping my fork harder than I should. Part of me repeated time and time again that Feyre had healing gifts, that she could've cured herself already, that if she was hurt—it was because she…

Because she what? She chose it? Thinking so was like paddling in a swamp, a very dirty, a very disgusting one at that. Was it really her fault? Could I really blame her, for—for making me uncomfortable, for making me see and consider things that I shouldn't?

“Will Feyre be taking us to the hole in the wall or some other sentry will?” Brannagh inquired then, twirling her fork.

Without missing a beat, Feyre perked her head up and said, “I need a little more time to… recover.” I wanted to wince. “We can go tomorrow.”

“It's a very long trip and our uncle isn't a very patient person.”

“I would think someone as old would've learned to wait,” she spat, glaring pointedly at the princess.

It was met with a smug smirk. “I would think you would've learned to stay quiet, after yesterday.” 

Tamlin slammed his palms on the table. “Enough, princess. You heard her. You will wait until she's ready.”

Feyre looked at him for a moment, her face carefully void. Her eyebrows twitched a little, like she was trying not to scowl openly. I thought I glimpsed the downturn of her mouth, but she lowered her face to her food and swallowed a small spoonful. Just one. It was all she allowed herself, if that. 

“What about Lucien?” 

I turned to Brannagh and let my brows drop. “I'm not available.” 

And that was that. The place got buried in a silence so deep not even Jurian tried to break.

Feyre was the first one to rise, her chair whining as she threw it back and got up. “I'll be in my study if anyone needs me,” she said, throwing her napkin on her unfinished meal.

When she walked out, she did it with her face still lowered. And when she had to pass by Tamlin's seat, her shoulders tensed and went up, like she was already protecting herself.

And I didn't think she was pretending.

* * *

**Feyre**

No one objected when I walked out of the dining room, or followed me. The house guards tried to pretend their attention wasn't on my stiff steps across the foyer and up the stairs. I felt like a walking bruise. Alis' salve could only do so much. And everything hurt.

Part of me wished no one had to see it, that I could hide. But my plans were bigger than my pride. And my pain earned me the sympathy of Tamlin's subjects. Because if I was the thing he treasured the most, what was left for the rest? They'd figure it out, soon.

The real reason I went to my studio wasn't to paint, not really. Even if I finished the details of my rose painting. It was actually because of the mirror I kept there to check on angles and expressions. 

It was big enough to see my face. And then I started to practice, shifting all of my features, one at a time. My eyes got bigger and smaller, the iris going through a rainbow of colors and my eyebrows changing in shape and length. It was small magic—instictual, as Tamlin had said. It didn't require as much effort anymore. But it took the edge off… a lot of things. Too many things. 

After that, I tried to play with the bone structure of my face, but that was a little bit harder. It was uncomfortable, feeling my skin stretch and pull. I gave up not too long after, deciding that I'd rather practice with coloring, so I settled for my hair. I wore it short, shorter than Amren, and then long, like Moe's flowing hair. It went from gold-brown to black, to chocolate, to ash blonde… to wine red. 

I startled as I saw myself, bracing for the panic to crush my chest and splinter my bones, like an actual weight… but it didn't happen.

I felt nothing. 

And didn't that make sense. Because fearing her—fearing _Amarantha_ was pointless in the end. She was long gone, her powers… now I had the same. Did the same thing she had, too. I—I wasn't any better than her. Being afraid of her was as good as being afraid of myself. Maybe I should.

I only realized Lucien was there when I heard him inhale sharply. I turned to see him, frozen and a little green on the face. The red bled out of my head immediately, leaving only the usual golden brown. 

“You're going to end up hating my powers more than what you hate me,” I mumbled, and looked away. 

“You just—” he swallowed hard “—you caught me by surprise, that's all.” 

I hugged myself by the elbows, ignoring my sore arms. “When you appeared suddenly, it used to make me afraid. I understand what you mean.” 

Lucien studied me before admitting, “Since she took my eye, I hate to look at myself in the mirror. I avoid it as much as I can.”

A moment of silence.

Then, “I'm sorry.”

“Me too.”

I held his gaze, and then turned my face away, pulling one of the brushes out of the glass filled with water I left them to wash out the paint and started drying it with a stained rag.

“How—how are you, Feyre?”

Despite it all, I chuckled. “Never been better.” Lucien scoffed and I set the brush down, now that it was dry and clean. “Do you need anything? Did you find out what happened to the missing keys?” 

“That… wasn't you?” 

I turned around, hand on my hip and changed my weight to one leg. So that's what he thought I did. “Why would I need them?” 

He gave me a hard look. “Answer the question.” 

“You won't believe me anyway.” I shrugged a shoulder, the least pained one. “Why bother?”

He just kept on staring at me with that ridiculous stern look. His brows wrinkled in a frown and he pursed his lips. I gave him a blank stare.

“No, that wasn't me. I didn't take them.” I waited. And waited. And then, I saw the disbelief coloring his face. “Why even ask if you're going to think whatever the hell you want?” 

Did I have any right in being angry that he mistrusted me? No. But I was mad anyway, and I was tired, and I wanted a fucking break. Lucien glanced back. Listening, I realized, for any incoming sounds. 

When he was sure no one was going to overhear, he said to me, “You snuck out on Solstice, what do you want me to think?”

“What are you thinking?” I shot back. 

His eye flickered across my most likely irritated face, studying once more. He sighed after a moment. “If you didn't steal them, what were you doing then?” 

“I don't think I'll tell you.” 

I almost gave into crossing my arms on my chest, like a petulant kid throwing a fit. Somehow, I managed to rein it in. But it was a gods-damned struggle, so I picked another wet brush and started drying it. 

Lucien dragged a hand down his cheek and took a deep breath. “What are you doing now, anyway?” he asked, a long-suffering sigh hidden somewhere. 

“Practicing my shape-shifting.” I gestured towards the drying painting. “And pouring out my feelings, you know how I love that.”

That painting was the fattest lie I had ever created. So pretty, so peaceful. Fucking bullshit. Utter crap. I wanted to burn it, and to burn the rest of the house along, with some select people still inside of it. 

“Feyre.” 

I rolled my eyes, and started cleaning the third and last brush. “Can I help you with something?” 

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him breathing deep. “I just—ugh, I just came to tell you the royals will wait until you're… better.” 

I turned fully to the painting, so he could only see the back of my head. Not the way my face twisted in a grimace. “All right,” I said softly. 

Lucien let a beat go in silence, and then, “Does it—still hurt?”

I screwed my eyes shut. “Yeah,” I muttered. “A little.”

A lie. A terrible one at that. One that he didn't try to call out, at the very least. He saw the bruises the day before. Or… maybe he thought I'd healed myself, and was just faking it. I preferred it if he believed that, honestly. Rather than—rather than _knowing_…

“Alis told me I should be resting,” I said. Part of me wanted to shift the focus elsewhere, anywhere else. I was shit at it. “She'll have my head if she realizes I'm not.”

“You steer clear of her.”

“Yeah. It's probably for the better.”

“Yeah, probably.”

I swallowed hard, and waited until I had things under control again before eyeing him there, standing awkwardly. One hand held his elbow, gaze traveling to and fro. “I really thought it was you with the keys,” he blurted out. 

I opened my mouth, the words already forming on my tongue, even if my mind screamed at me to shut up, telling me that Lucien didn't need to know. 

“It was Ianthe,” I said quickly, hoping just as the words came out that he wouldn't catch them. 

No such luck. Lucien went wide eyed, his face going slightly sideways, frowning deeply. “Why would she do that?”

I shrugged. “Anyone's guess. I only know she's up to something.” A snort. “And it's nothing good,” I finished lowly. Lucien considered my words, considered _me_, closely. Judging, weighing my words. 

_What are you thinking?_ I wanted to ask. _What is going on in that mind of yours?_ But I knew it was a question that wouldn't get me an answer. Certainly not one I would like, in any case. 

I turned back to the painting, for good. With a flick of my hand, I created a small, soft breeze to help dry it along. Lucien stood there for a moment, I knew because he made no sound of retreat. He wasn't even breathing loudly. It was like he wasn't there at all. But the dense atmosphere in the room was unmistakable. Unmissable.

“I'll see you later, then,” he said at last. 

I wanted to stop him, to say something else. But I didn't even know what, or to what end. It just—

It was already done. The hurt. The everything. I did that, and I had to live with the consequences. I had to accept it, and let it go. 

I clenched my hands and scoffed. 

Easier said than done. 

* * *

**Lucien**

I was awake at midnight. Eating the food Feyre still sent me, even after everything. Her note, already ashes on the fireplace, burnt in my mind's eye_. You have to stay alive as well._ The cynical part of me wanted to spit at her, tell her what did she care. She hadn't cared on Solstice—had an awful, wretched suspicious that she hadn't cared before that either. Maybe before, but—no. Maybe she didn't care about me, but she was decent enough not to want me dead. 

She had proved she didn't want me dead. By going out of character, by threatening Tamlin. Because he… 

The screams started then, and I almost thanked whatever it was for the distraction. Then I snapped to action. I got rid of the remains of the food and the silverware that wasn't actually silver but some flammable material that went up in odorless smoke in seconds. 

My door was being knocked urgently before I opened it. It was Hart on the other side, his eyes wide. “Lord Tamlin said you are to watch over lady Feyre until things are safe again.” 

Feyre peeked out of her room in that moment, alert and tense like she was ready to fight already. “What's happening?” she asked in a tone that told you she wouldn't accept a dismissal. 

The screaming continued outside. 

“Seven naga have broken into the state. We are dealing with it, but you are to remain here,” Hart explained in a rush, already turning to go back. “Lucien will guard you until it's safe again.”

“Wait,” she said, half out of her room despite only being in her nightwear. I wanted to narrow my eyes at her, but I caught myself. “I can help. We can help.” 

Hart grimaced, and shook his head. “Those are our orders. I'm sorry.”

“But—” 

“You're injured, my lady. You—please stay.” Then to me, “Keep her safe.” I nodded, and with that, he took off. 

Feyre closed her eyes and cursed, quietly—I got the feeling she was trying to contain herself—then stormed back into her room, leaving the door open for me. I closed my own and followed. Unlike her, I was still in the day's clothes. _Fully_ dressed. A bitter smile took possession of my face and I huffed. 

“Did you plan this?” I asked as I closed the door. 

She was standing on her window, looking out. But the screams weren't coming from this side of the house. With a frown over her shoulder she spat, “What?”

“This whole thing. The attack, me being here with you, you wearing that.” I was scowling now, too. “I swear to the gods, if you're trying to set me up aga—”

“This isn't about you,” she hissed. “And the attack it's not my fault. I didn't—” An annoyed grunt. “I didn't let the naga in, or lure them here.” 

I continued watching her closely, with a little too much anger perhaps. Which made her angry in return. “I don't believe you.” 

Her hand curled around the windowsill and she faced outside again, her shoulders raised and shaking in bitter, quiet laughter. “Of course you don't.” 

“You don't get to be mad at me for not trusting you.”

“Can you just try not to rub it in my face, for a change?” she snapped, her voice thick with an unreadable emotion. “People might get hurt out there. Can you just, not right now?”

“Don't act like you care about the people.”

That got me her full attention. Feyre whirled to face me. Her face was a wrathful mask and her teeth were bared at me. “I never asked for any of this. I never asked for people to get hurt. But guess what, you don't get what you want so you have to make the best out of the shitty hand the world deals you. If you're not going to understand that, then get the fuck out of here because I'm not going to stand any more of this from you.” 

The fucking nerve this woman had. Yelling at me like it was my fault somehow. Like I was the one to blame. I wanted to yell right back, wanted to give into the agitated emotions whirling inside me. But I couldn't. I couldn't. So I did the next best thing and stormed out to stand guard in the hallway. 

* * *

**Feyre**

The rug would have a permanent mark if this kept going for too long. And I would get bald spots on my scalp from pulling at my hair. But other than pace and damage my hair, I had no idea what else I could do. No one was screaming anymore, which... was supposed to be good. But there wasn't any cheering either, or even conversations that reached my ears. Not from here. 

Something was happening out there, either way. And it was good—or really, really bad. We could deal with the bad, I was certain. But being clueless as to what to expect, that was the thing that wrecked me—wrecked a part of me that had hardly rebuilt. My knees wanted to shake, badly, and it was sheer iron will that prevented that from happening. 

I couldn't take it anymore. 

I wrapped myself in a robe, one that covered much more than my nightgown, and went out of the stifling room. As expected, Lucien was there, leaning on his side of the hallway, arms crossed and eye alert. He scowled at me. 

“Stay inside,” was his order.

The incredulous look I gave him was enough to make him cringe. He did not just tell me to _stay inside_. Gritting my teeth and breathing deeply, I got a handle of my anger and said, “I need to know what's going on. The screaming stopped a while ago, but no one has come—”

As if my words were a summoning, I sensed an approaching presence. So I waited. Until Tamlin turned the corner and came into view. 

He faltered when he saw us standing there, already aware of him, but didn't let it stop him. Proud asshole until the bitter end. I used his approach as an opportunity to detail him. There was a lot of blood on him, for starters, rotten and sour enough to know it wasn't his. And he was limping. 

“What happened?” I asked. My toes were digging in the marble, as if it could root me in the spot. 

The truth was that I did want to walk away, to go back into my room and not have to face him again so soon. He hadn't so much as seeked me out, and I spent the whole day out on walks and rides—much to the dismay of everyone else—as long as it kept me away from him. I wished it lasted more. 

“The naga are gone, and no one got hurt,” he said, stiff and tired, his gaze solely on me. 

“How did they get inside in the first place?”

Tamlin blinked at me in surprise. I was surprised at myself, too, at being able to talk decently and not attack him right there and then. But he answered anyway, “They had the keys.” 

Lucien stiffened in the blurred corners of my vision. It shouldn't have given me the satisfaction it did. But there I was, gloating to myself. Feeling emptier and emptier the more I did it. 

“Ianthe said she had a vision,” Tamlin went on. “She warned us all.” 

I couldn't help a glance at Lucien, whose expression had shut down to a blank mask. But when he returned the contact, oh, now that was a sort of guilt I hadn't seen in a while. It just made me want to rage. 

With my eyes turned downwards, I inquired, “Is that all?”

“The sentry who lost the keys will receive his punishment in the morning. You are expected to be there.” A pause. “Both of you.” 

I looked up again, a protest in the tip of my tongue. But how much hypocritical could I get? Something ugly was twisting in my guts. There was no name to put to it. But it was big, and it was nipping at my insides. 

“Good night,” I muttered, then turned around and walked into my room. 

The two males stayed posted outside my room, but I couldn't care less for their presence as I shed my robe and slipped into bed with no intentions or even possibilities to fall asleep. 

They both left at some point, I supposed. Or at least Tamlin did, because Lucien wouldn't have put a toe in my bedroom if anyone—least of all Tamlin—caught whiff of it. I honestly didn't care one way or another and I didn't turn around to greet him, or made any move to indicate I was wide awake. 

“I know you're awake.”

Well, that solved it. 

“It was Ianthe, wasn't it.”

No answer. 

“You let that happen, too.” 

Yes, I did. 

“You really don't care.” 

_It's not my fault, Lucien. I didn't hold their hands to do it. Why can't you see that?_

Instead, “Leave me alone.” 

And he did. 

Good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! I HAVE RISEN FROM MY DEPRESSED TOMB AND PLAN TO GO LIE BACK IN IT RIGHT AFTER. 
> 
> But here you have it, another chapter. If you're still here after that wait, I love you to pieces. And hope you enjoyed this. See you soon (hopefully) ❤️


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, guys. new chapter. i still don't have an stable posting schedule, but who has anything stable these days? not me. 
> 
> i think this chapter is a little bit heavier than the others, there are mentions of blood and lucien is going through a lot of bad memories. but i don't know how i would tag it, so if you have any suggestions i'm all ears.

**Lucien**

The guard's name was Jensen. He was a trembling wreck since the moment I arrived to the barracks, and had probably been long before that. His tan face was bloodless, his nails pale and his hands shaking. Luckily, the others had made him sit and offered him company. 

When he saw me, he started babbling apologies. I only went to sit besides him and shook my head with a sad smile. 

“I didn't—” he started, his voice choked.

And then he cut himself off, his brown eyes were full of dread and panic. I understood. I knew the complete sentence was  _ I didn't do it _ . But Tamlin had already deemed it so and he was the High Lord, his word was absolute. Everyone else knew it, too. 

“I know,” I said quietly. 

In the end, it was all I could offer. Not a promise that things would be okay, but that I understood and that I saw his pain, too.

But try as I might, I couldn't do a thing. Never had that option. It didn't sit right with me. But it shouldn't be much of a surprise, it had always been like this. 

* * *

  
  
  


Jensen had wanted time for himself, he told me and the other five sentries who weren't on night duty. Neither of us were under any pretense the poor boy would get a wink of sleep tonight. The dark god knew I hadn't when it was me waiting for punishment.

In the Autumn Court.

And then Under the Mountain.

Both Beron and Amarantha had made me wait all night, locked up in a cell. And then they both came. Beron with Eris in tow. And Amarantha… I would never forget how my stomach dropped when Tamlin walked into that dark cell behind Amarantha, his face set in stone. Not even a hint of remorse or guilt for the things he would do to me with the whip in his right hand. 

Amarantha had smirked at me, then waved at Tamlin and simply said, “Begin.” 

Twenty lashes later, he didn't so much as twitch his mouth at my mangled back. I wondered if Feyre felt the same loneliness, the same disappointment when she risked her life for him and he just didn't care. Wondered if that was the reason she was trying to destroy him so badly, and if I ought to feel the same, but was too much of a coward to bring myself to do it. 

I wanted to hate Feyre sometimes, I really did. What I really hated was how she was right, how I couldn't really begrudge her for any of it. And how she made me think things I shouldn't. 

Or maybe, I should have. 

Maybe I hated how I needed her to show me to realize. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The next morning, dawn found me sitting on the entrance to the barracks. I was still chill from a night spent outside with little more than a tunic and pants, but even that couldn't break through the numbness I plunged into hours and hours ago, ever since the others put up the two posts where Jensen was to receive his punishment. 

Tamlin was really going to do it, wasn't he? Just like he did it to me. Just like my own brother did. What excuse did he have now? What dead-end alley would he be cornered into to say he didn't have a choice? Because no one ever did, anymore. Because people got hurt, and everything they had to offer was a pathetic  _ I had to _ . But for what, I couldn't understand for the life of mine. 

“Don't tell me you spent the night here,” Hart said in lieu of a greeting. 

I glanced up at him and gave a pathetic attempt at an easy smile. “Guess I won't tell you, then.” 

He huffed a mirthless laugh and to my surprise, he sat next to me. It wasn't that I disliked him, or that there was any animosity between us. But considering he was some of the newer additions to the staff, and that he hadn't been here for… any of it, we weren't actually that close. So we sat there, in silence next to each other. It wasn't half bad, and thinking about Hart's intentions took off my mind from the other things, so it was a nice change of pace. 

Until he spoke again. “I've had it easy,” he started. “During the curse, I went into hiding. Only when she summoned us all there, did I really see what it was like. All of it.” I was staring at him, wordless. Waiting to see where he was going. For his part, he seemed to order his thoughts before continuing. “I saw the games everyone played there, what some people had to become to survive. But I do wonder sometimes, if all that happened there, if the way Lord Tamlin acted wasn't just something he did to survive, but something he's been all along.” 

I blinked twice at him, then turned away. Really gave it thought. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked after a while. 

“Because ever since that High Lords' meeting, I've seen what it's been like for you.”

It was really strange. How things seemed clearer, the edges sharper when someone else pointed them out. Like cleaning a foggy glass. And gods, it hurt like a bitch to see things so crystal clear. Stranger yet, I wasn't in pain. No, I had hurt over it for months now. What I felt was such an unbridled ire that I could have set myself on fire. 

Then I was laughing, and I was leaking tears from my eye. Not at all because of how hard the laughter was shaking my whole body. “Well,  _ fuck _ . That's embarrassing.”

“That's one word for it, I suppose.”

Hart was quiet after that, and I wasn't laughing anymore. We stayed like that for a long while, until the sun fully rose in the sky and the last shadows of the night vanished. 

“How is Feyre?” 

“Better. Healing.” 

“Is it true?” 

I knew people would talk. They had before, and an engagement and two mating bonds wouldn't change that. It was only natural someone asked at some point. 

“No.” 

“Shame. She deserved better.” 

_ She has exactly who she deserves, trust me _ , I wanted to say, but settled for, “She did.”

I meant it, too. 

This was such a mess. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


As if things weren't bad already, Jurian and the royals were invited to watch. Not making any outward hostile gesture at them was almost as taxing as holding back my tongue. Did they really have to be here? For this? It wasn't any of their concern. Neither was Ianthe's. At her I did glower some. And the rest of the sentries did what I couldn't for the Hybern delegation. 

Feyre was there, too. She held her hands together in front of her, dainty in her cute, pink dress and fancy hair updo. Maybe if she didn't glare as much and as hotly as she did, her adorable image would be complete. And if her smart eyes didn't gauge the rest of the staff's reaction so accurately. 

A smart one, this girl. 

At last, I saw what her plans truly were. And she had succeeded. Tamlin was done for after this. Because he would go through it, wouldn't he? No matter what. Obsessed with loyalty and order and laws, no one would be able to stop him. I wouldn't even try. And in the helplessness of that revelation, I basked in my own bitterness. 

_ You did this to yourself.  _

It was disgusting. I sounded like Feyre. 

Speaking of the devil.

“You didn't go back to your room,” she said as she stood next to me. It was to be expected— _ somehow  _ it was always like this for any court function, and it was starting to get annoying. 

I didn't answer her. Instead choosing to look the other way, casually enough, in Hart's direction. His gaze went from Jensen's already tied up form, to Bron, who stood behind a stone-faced Tamlin. He was gazing down at Jensen, not a shred of compassion gleaming through. He might as well not be there, might as well be one faceless executioner and not the High Lord we all risked our lives for. He was an idiot. He was such a damned, doomed idiot. 

_ _

_ Please,  _ I begged to every last one deity who might be listening. It all went unheard. 

Tamlin began to pace before Jensen. I knew this tactic, knew that controlled movements were as terrifying as unchecked wrath. “You were entrusted with guarding this estate and its people,” he began, his tone so even, so calm. It wasn't even angry. “You were found not only asleep at the gate last night, but it was your set of keys that originally went missing.” Tamlin snarled softly, this time. “Do you deny this?”

“I—I never fall asleep. It’s never happened until now. I must have just nodded off for a minute or two,” Jensen stammered, begged, the ropes restraining him, groaning as he strained against them. 

I wished I could tell him to save it, to take the blame and just make it quicker for himself. The sooner it ended—

I wanted to puke. 

“You jeopardized the lives of everyone in this manor,” was Tamlin's last sentence. 

There was nothing else to say, nothing Jensen could really say to get out of this one. There never was. But the illusion was only nice the first time, then you started learning that sometimes losing your dignity by begging would still get you beaten up to a pulp no matter how you tried to put it. 

Tamlin held out a hand. 

Bron, stone-faced, approached to give him a whip. He was a good soldier, a good warrior. But he faltered when all of our gazes locked on him, and the dangerous mix of regret and blaming showed for a brief moment as he made eye contact with Tamlin. So we all knew which side of the line in the sand he stood on. 

Ianthe stepped forward, hands folded over her stomach. “Twenty lashes. And one more, for the Cauldron’s forgiveness.” 

Tamlin unfurled the whip, unaware of the angry glares on him. Feyre sucked on a breath and took a step back, towards me. If I wasn't frowning already, that would have made me do it. How dare she? Didn't she have even a hint of respect for these people, for the male who was going to pay for  _ her _ actions, and everyone else's? 

She glanced at me, her eyes looked bluer under the morning sun. Somehow transparent and clear. Genuine. She searched for something on my face, though I had no idea what it could be. It felt like a test, in a way. But I didn't know what the right answer was. 

“It was her,” Jensen panted, jerking his chin to Ianthe. “She took the keys.” 

Feyre stared a second longer before widening her eyes at him, and then focusing on Ianthe, all outrage and distraughtness. The pieces came slower than I wished, but I was seeing the picture, the corners and the details. What she told me yesterday. 

Ianthe didn't so much as flinch, didn't move her face in a way that betrayed her feeling caught or even the tinniest bit nervous. “Why should I take the keys? I warned you of the attack,” she said, all smooth and condescending, like she was talking to a confused child. 

“You were at the barracks—I  _ saw _ you that night,” Jensen insisted, then turned to beg Tamlin. 

I flickered my eyes to Feyre. Her breathing was controlled, but her shoulders we're almost heaving as she watched, eyes wide and expectant.  _ Hopeful, _ almost. She watched Tamlin closely, and so did I. He held Jensen's gaze, searching for the dishonesty, the lies. Cracks appeared in his stony facade. And I dared to hope, too—

But Ianthe thrilled, “I would have thought one of your sentries, Tamlin, would have more dignity than to spread lies to spare himself from some fleeting pain.” 

Her face, though, it stayed serene and calm, if not a bit disappointed at Jensen. Like she expected better of him. My blood was thrumming, heating up with anger.  _ Fleeting pain _ . That bitch. What did she know about pain? 

Tamlin's face hardened again, but he still surveyed the kneeling sentry before him. 

“I will hear his story,” Feyre intervened, taking a step forward. 

Her hands were laced together, pressed to her stomach. Like she was trying to hide some inexistent nerves. I bet she had it all timed and rehearsed. This was her stage, everyone else was just her prop and puppet.

“With all due respect, milady, it is not your judgment to make,” Ianthe tried to intervene as well, her chin lifting. 

Feyre dealt her a heated glare meant to shut her up. Ianthe didn't continue, and so she turned to Jensen and said to him, her tone kind and reassuring, “I will hear your story.”

Ianthe gaped wordlessly a couple times before blurting out, “You’ll take the word of a  _ sentry _ over that of a High Priestess?” 

A hush went through all of us, not words were needed to convey the shared disgust we directed at her. Even Feyre was glaring, but then she was looking at Tamlin and so did I. I realized then. He was smart—he  _ knew _ . His mouth tightened in a disappointed line as he realized what I recently did a moment ago. 

“Perhaps it was a mistake,” Feyre said, quietly, palms stretched upwards. Almost pleading. “Don’t take it from his hide—or his honor. Let’s hear him out.” 

Tamlin held the eye contact for a moment, then he looked at Jensen's face, so full of dread and hope and pleading, unsaid words. 

And then.

“Pathetic,” scoffed Brannagh. Then snorted. In the quiet, her words rang across the gathering. 

And I didn't even have to look, no matter that I already was, to know that whatever open door to get Tamlin to understand was slammed shut and then locked from the inside. The windows boarded, sealed off to the rest of the world. 

Tamlin opened his mouth, but Ianthe cut him off before he could speak, “There are laws to be obeyed,” she told us, but her eyes were on Feyre. So calm and gentle that only seemed to feed Feyre's urges to maim her. “Traditions. He has broken our trust, has let our blood be spilled for his carelessness. Now he seeks to accuse a High Priestess of his failings. It cannot go unpunished.” She nodded to Tamlin. “Twenty-one lashes, High Lord.”

Feyre was almost gaping as she focused on Tamlin. “Listen to him.  _ Please _ , just listen.” 

For once, I understood. I knew what she was trying to say. It all crashed together at the same time, so fast and suddenly I took one step back. I felt sick to my stomach, sicker than before. Because I also knew, I knew that this was a chance and that Tamlin wasn't going to take it. That he wouldn't put Ianthe aside like that. That her word mattered above all else. 

He turned to Jensen, still tied to the post. “Put the bit in.”

Bron didn't move at the quiet order, simply staring at his High Lord, then briefly at me and the rest of the sentries. As if he was trying to make sure he wasn't just siding with Ianthe, instead of the people who went over the wall, who died willingly for him. And found the same reaction among his brothers in arms. 

And no one said it, no one needed to, to know that something broke in the foundations of this court. And there was only Tamlin to blame. 

Bron put the bit into Jensen's mouth with trembling hands and took a step back, his gaze purposely on his own boots, his face caught in between betrayal, disdain and disbelief. The others weren't much better. 

Feyre pressed herself against me as the first strike of the whip came down onto Jensen's back, her face almost hidden in my chest. Tamlin looked at us, however briefly. The second strike hit harder. I held onto Feyre, my hands on her arms. If I didn't, I felt like whatever was connecting me to the ground, to the world, would finally part from within me. That it would never come back. 

Jensen screamed through the piece of leather he was biting, tears rolling down his cheeks. There were wet eyes amongst the small crowd, faces full to the brim with disgust and resent. 

And in my head, silence.

I watched the blood spurting from Jensen's back, the same crimson that rained from my own when it was me in his place, when I had to feel and see it pooling beneath my knees. The agony of so much pain and the weakness of losing so much. Having passed out only to be brought back. Her laughter, the mirth that was now mirrored in the royals. 

The memories slipped away, they passed through my fingers like sand and then slipped. Everything… everything was slipping away. 

* * *

  
  
  


**Feyre**

  
  


Lucien was just behind me, his hands around my arms. But he wasn't there. It was unsettling to witness, how his gaze was firmly put on the sentry and Tamlin, but his mind seemed so far away. 

I wished I could do the same thing, go to some faraway place. Just anywhere that wasn't _ here _ . I wished not to see the scarlet blood or hear first the cries of pain, then just weak grunts and whimpers when his voice just gave up. But I had to—had to make myself see what Tamlin was willing to do. See that there was never an ounce of hope that was warranted when it came to him. And I had to see the suffering my own actions caused, had to be aware, had to pay somehow. 

The twenty-first lash swung down, thunderous like a clock's bell marking the middle of the night. A strangled, small sound came out of my mouth when the sentry sagged forward against his bindings, limp and barely breathing. 

_ Please don't let him be dead _ , I prayed. Plans be damned, this male didn't—he'd done nothing  _ wrong _ . 

Tamlin dropped the whip on the bloodstained soil and took a step back. He surveyed his handiwork with an inscrutable stare. Merciless. Show no weakness. I stared after him, sick and still in disbelief. Maybe the part of me that still harbored some semblance of hope had expected him to make the right decision in the end, while I was plotting my plans. It had wondered what I would do after, if he did. I would've come clean, told him the truth, maybe. Maybe work together. Maybe… mend things.

That maybe didn't exist. 

Bron and Hart stepped forward, untying their fellow sentry with care and efficiency. They wasted no time in dragging him into the barracks, seeking medical attention and an out of Tamlin's sight. The way they angled themselves, almost as if protecting him, it said a damn whole lot of this situation. 

Ianthe started saying some shit or other, ushering the Hybern party and Tamlin towards the manor. She was wise enough not to extend the invitation to me, and so was Tamlin, and Jurian for once stayed fucking quiet. If not a bit detached. 

I waited until they all left, still close to Lucien. He hadn't so much as loosened his grip on me. It was starting to hurt, but I didn't tell him that. Instead, I turned fully to him. I almost asked if he was okay. But seeing his face was answer enough. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears. 

I did the first thing that came to mind and held him, toeing the line between pressure and hurting. My hands remained unmoving on his back, anything to avoid bad memories. It was a little bit late for that, though, but I wasn't about to make it even worse now.

“I am an idiot,” he mumbled. 

He hadn't moved an inch, not even to remove his hands from my arms. He still gripped tightly, like he was afraid of drifting away if he let go.

“You're not.” I held him tighter. “You're not, you're not.”

Lucien didn't answer. 

* * *

I knew Lucien wasn't about to retreat into his room to process all of… that. And that he shouldn't be alone under any circumstance, so I convinced him to join me in helping the wounded sentry. He accepted with less fight that I expected or wished for. Something told me that if I dragged him to the sea and told him to walk ahead, he would just follow. It chilled my blood.

There were a few sentries walking to and fro, not more than five, carrying bowls of water, clean and reddish alike. It was a sort of contained chaos, everyone moved at the same time without a discernible rhythm, at least not to me. What jumped most at my attention was the lack of a healer's presence.

“Where's the healer?” I asked no one in particular, gaze straying to the door. Eyes snapped up to me, all of them pitiful and knowing, but no one replied. I turned to Lucien. “Where's the healer?”

He looked away. 

“The healer isn't coming,” Hart said, voice solemn. 

“ _ What _ .”

“There's no healer,” another male said. “Not for him.” 

My eyes stung. “T-Then I can do it. I'm not a healer, but I can—”

Lucien put his hand on my shoulder. “You can't.” 

I turned to him wordlessly. I didn't need to speak for him to know the regret that was cursing my very existence. It was pressing down on me like a physical weight. 

My fault.

I was going to be so sick. But I pushed on. I stood in front of Hart, who seemed to be the one in charge. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Lady—” 

“I am not asking,” I gritted out. He blinked at me, taken aback by the harsh, commanding tone I never used with them. 

That could have backfired, with Tamlin's presence so heavy in the air, being openly demanding, so close to sounding controlling, was not the best idea. But I had to trust they saw I wanted to help, and was not going to take a damn no for an answer. 

“Bandages,” he said after a beat of silence. 

I jumped into work. 

* * *

  
  
Lucien helped too. The green hue of his skin didn't vanish though. He moved by inertia, like there was a part of his brain that was still active, listening to the instruction he was given and pulling the strings that moved his body. The rest of him stayed frighteningly absent. 

It reminded me of the time Elain sleep-walked into my room, her matronly nightgown billowing and her hair tangled, like a ghost haunting my father's old estate. The similarities made my hair stand on end. I hadn't been able to wake Elain up. I didn't believe I could do that for Lucien, either. 

The sentry had been rendered unconscious a few minutes after starting to clean the wounds, a mix of pain and exhaustion doing what the lack of anesthesia couldn't. The rest of the sentries, Lucien and I spent the better part of an hour cleaning the expansion of shredded skin, his flesh almost hanging off his back. But Lucien had to leave once the most experienced one began stitching it all together. I made myself stay until the male was bandaged up completely. 

“He'll have to leave,” one of the younger guards said lowly while the rest put on the gauze and bands. “He'd be lucky if he could be the bodyguard of a lower nobility lady, if any.”

“He doesn't have anywhere to go?”

A shrug. “His father is rich, maybe he'll take him back.”

_ Don't cry, don't you dare to cry.  _

He went on, “Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Mother knows he is getting himself out of trouble by leaving this court.” I gave him a questioning look that he answered with a bitter smile. “These gardens are filled with snakes, and our High Lord keeps them as pets. We're nothing more than food.” 

I knew then, that I had won. Maybe I'd ask Cerridwen to bring me a bottle of something strong. I needed a bitter drink for this bitter victory. 

“I'll be back in the morning,” I muttered and left. 

Lucien was outside, leaning on the side of the barracks, gaze still lost and hands still limp by his sides. Seeing him like that strangled my heart. 

“He'll be fine,” I whispered once I was beside him and leaning on the wall. “I can heal him in the morning, a little bit at least. No one will notice.” 

He looked up at last, his gaze zeroing on me with a force and intent I couldn't decipher for the life of me. His mouth was slightly open and he trembled all over with a broken, small gasp. His eye filled up with tears but he laughed, the sound twisted by something so deeply broken… it was just sad. That didn't start to cover it but I couldn't find anything else to name it. 

I put my hand on his arm, felt how his muscles shifted when he covered his face, dragged his hands down and then covered his mouth to try and stifle the sobs wrecking his body. The kind that made you hold yourself to hold all the breaking bits. His body shook with the force of it. 

He was still shaking when he held onto me instead, broken pieces and all. His arms so tight around my torso, he could have easily snapped me in half. “I am sorry,” he cried out, his voice muffled by the fabric of my dress and my shoulder. “I'm so sorry, Feyre.”

“Me too,” I mumbled, stunned and feeling like I was falling apart alongside him. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, hope you guys enjoyed it. thanks for sticking around and for your support. tell me your thoughts in the comments!


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